


CINE101 - Introduction to Film Studies

by morethananythinginmylife



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morethananythinginmylife/pseuds/morethananythinginmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Thomas Bangalter is a new professor at Stevenson University, home of one of the finest film studies programs in the country. Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo is a rebel student without a cause. When Guy-Man finds himself in Professor Bangalter's class, it turns out he's not the only one learning a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roll Call

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all,
> 
> So this is just the beginning of a multi-chapter college AU fic that started from one too many conversations on tumblr. Please feel free to leave feedback here or on my tumblr, morethananythinginmylife.tumblr.com.

He had finally done it. Professor Thomas Bangalter. Eight years of working on his PhD at the Sorbonne and the Art Institute of Chicago had finally paid off. A tenured position at Stevenson University, home of one of the United States’ top film and media studies programs. He smiled to himself as he read the plaque outside of his door once again. He pulled out his keys and opened the door to his new life as a college professor.

*** 

Chain-smoking on the vents outside the library did seem a little high school when he thought about it. Not that he would be stopping any time soon. Guy-Man took a long drag from his third cigarette. Or was it his fourth? He couldn’t be sure. _Halfway there. Aren’t_ Mère _and_ Père _proud?_ Considering that young Guy-Man had been expelled from most of the prestigious boarding schools of France…and Switzerland…and one or two in Belgium made his two-year stay at Stevenson quite impressive. Even if he skipped more class than recommended. He pulled up the Blackboard app on his iPhone to check out his course load once again. Much to the chagrin of his college counselor, Guy-Man was still undecided, racking up elective credits with no clear end in sight. His course load this semester was no different:

Figure Drawing – 3pm-6pm – TTh

Pre-Columbian History – 12:30pm-1:30pm – MW

Writing the Short Novel – 10am – 11:30am – TTh

He glanced down to the last class and his eyes shot up to the clock. _Merde._ He was definitely going to be late.

 

***

Stevenson University’s pride and joy was its commitment to a balanced liberal arts education. Every field of study had an introductory course and these classes were always run by a fully tenured professor. However the job usually ended up in the hands of the younger professors. The lectures weren’t particularly large – they usually capped at twenty – but they could be…rowdy. Hotshot freshmen eager to impress, overly talkative majors trying to prove why they don’t belong in an intro class, slackers who like to get by on the bare minimum, intros had them all. Professor Bangalter collected his materials and made his way down to the large classroom. He shuffled through his notes one more time, muttering the major points to himself. The first class was usually just introductions and a walk through the syllabus – nothing to sweat over. Thomas stopped in front of the classroom and took a deep breath. _They’re just a bunch of kids. It’ll be a walk in the park._

***

Guy-Man ran up the wide staircase up to the third floor. He burst through the double door entrance and speed walked down the hall, taking a moment to try and catch his breath. He swung the door open faster than he wanted and was met by the stares of nineteen unimpressed students and a nervous looking professor seated around a table

“Uh, sorry,” he muttered, his accent thick. A shorthaired girl with a lip ring giggled before getting punched in the arm by her friend sitting next to her. Guy-Man sauntered in and took the last remaining seat, which of course was next to the professor.

“It is alright, we were just going around introducing ourselves. Please, introduce yourself, full name, major and why you’re taking the course.”

“Uh, my name is Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo. You can call me Guy-Man. I am, uh, undeclared.” The shorthaired girl tried to suppress a squeal over Guy-Man’s pronunciation. Her friend hissed _Hilary stop_ under her breath. Guy-Man eyed her before continuing, “Yeah, and uh, I don’t know.” He leaned back and played with the silver link bracelet around his wrist. 

“Well, that’s ok. We are all here to learn about the history of cinema, right?” The professor was hopeful. The class mumbled _Yes_ in lazy unison. “My name is Thomas Bangalter and I will be your professor for the next eleven weeks. Let me pass around the syllabus.” He passed the stack of paper in front of him to Guy-Man and continued. “During these eleven weeks, there will be weekly screenings at the Snyder Theater downstairs. Now I know some of you may want to just Netflix or torrent these films but I encourage you to come to the theater and watch them on a big screen. There is something very p-poetic and, well, majestic about seeing something like Citizen Kane or Casablanca on a large screen in the dark. I believe there is nothing like it.” Guy-Man could sense the deep sincerity of Professor Bangalter’s words. “Feel free to bring a friend if you like but please, try to keep the hanky panky to a minimum.” The class chuckled.

“Moving on, we will have several assignments throughout the semester along with a midterm exam and a ten-page essay final.” The room deflated. “With that being said, I want you all to have fun with this course. One of film’s great pleasures is that it is meant to entertain. I want you all to be entertained throughout the course so most assignments will be catered to your interests. All I ask is for you all to keep an open mind and be open to all the wonder that cinema can give. Okay?” The professor turned to Guy-Man. “Okay, Guy-Man?” Guy-Man was struck by the openness of his professor’s face, the hope that he could at least be the one student.

“Yeah, ok.” Professor Bangalter grinned and clapped his hands before hopping up and approaching the blackboard. 

“Excellent! Well, let’s go through a little early history…”

***

Guy-Man left the class with his head spinning. Or perhaps that was just the effect of watching countless zoetropes? The class seemed to have promise. It seemed like Professor Bangalter was much more interested in getting the class to understand and appreciate film than shove stale theory down their throats. After the many highly academic classes he had taken not having to quote old guys that died a century ago was a welcome break.

It also helped that Professor Bangalter was a pretty attractive man. He was clearly young, his thick dark beard and the slight thinning of his otherwise thick curly hair unable to hide his youth. He was tall and thin as a reed, a build that made his dark chinos and well-worn sweater look that much more sophisticated. He’d call it scholastic casual. The look was topped off with a pair of chic black glasses, square and slightly thick. But beyond his outward appearance, there was something truly genuine about Professor Bangalter, something deeply sincere. The way he would lean towards whoever was speaking, his eyes active as if reading the speaker's words in the air. He drew you in and made you feel like the only person in the room. He made you feel important.

Guy-Man shook off the thought as he sat on a nearby bench and lit a cigarette. _God, getting a little hot for teacher, Jesus._ Guy-Man exhaled a long, steady gust of smoke, focusing as it floated away from him. _Well at least this makes the class that much more interesting._

*** 

Thomas returned to his tiny office euphoric. The class had exceeded his expectations. While, yes, it did start a little slow, once he pulled out the zoetropes and busted out some slides and clips on the projector, he definitely had the class hooked. He smiled to himself as he placed his notes and laptop on his desk before sinking into his very hard chair. It was a good group with broad interests. Cinematography, film criticism, stunt work, male stars of the fifties, they truly were a diverse bunch. The only one that concerned him in the slightest was the young man who strolled in late. Guy-Man. He sat back, placing a book back on his short case by the window. He took a look out onto the small quad and saw Guy-Man sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette.

He could already tell this one was going to be an enigma. His long dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, brushing against his paper thin white V-neck t-shirt, a gold wishbone pendant dangling from a gold chain around his neck. He wore a holey pair of tight black jeans with black leather motorcycle boots. He had carried in a worn out olive green fabric knapsack along with a gold motorcycle helmet. A gold motorcycle helmet. As he looked out and down three stories, he could see the helmet siting next to its owner, the leaves of the trees filtering the sunlight that reflected off of its dully-bright surface.

He continued watching as Guy-Man put out the cigarette and stood up, throwing the knapsack on and putting on his gold helmet. Thomas lost sight when Guy-Man rounded the building but moments later he heard the roar of a motorcycle. 

_Never mind enigma, this one was going to be trouble._


	2. Syllabus

Guy-Man sat in the hallway nervously. He tried to flip through his engineering textbook but instead of taking notes, he found himself doodling aimlessly. He snapped himself out of his reverie and surveyed the damage done to the margins. Nothing too severe. Several students emerged from the doors sporadically lining the wide hallway. Some seemed happy, others a little green around the gills. One girl came out pissed. She kicked a trashcan before she stormed down the hall. He started tracing his fingers along his bracelet.

 

“Guy-Man?” A woman’s voice rang down the hall. Guy-Man looked and saw his advisor, bright-eyed and smiling, poking her head out of her door. “Come on in.” He gathered his knapsack and headed in.

 

Ms. Chan’s office was a brightly decorated room, the walls covered in a mixture of posters of the Stevenson campus courtesy of the publicity office and abstract sketches and paintings. Her desk was neat and colorful; tiny sculptures shoulder-to-shoulder with college paraphernalia and student paperwork. Miss Chan – _God, just call me Alyssa_ – was both an advisor for the college and amateur artist, a combination that always fascinated Guy-Man. She wore her hair in a playfully chic uneven bob, her red glasses complementing her look perfectly. Her cheerful smile wavered slightly as she placed Guy-Man’s file in front of her.

 

“Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. You need to declare a major. ASAP. You’re going into your third year undeclared. Most Stevenson students declare end of second year or within the first couple weeks of third so that they’re on track to graduate in four years. Or five. You have to think about your bachelors’ thesis and major requirements, what electives you’ve already taken to fit into your major curriculum…” She rattled off reasons like the proper concerned advisor. Guy-Man’s mind immediately began to wander.

 

“Guy-Man!” He snapped to attention. Her face went soft. “Look, I don’t mean to beat a dead horse and I know the…well…home situation doesn’t make things any easier but you know they’re going to want answers.” He didn’t want to think about that part.

 

“Well let’s take a look at your course load for this semester then.” Guy-Man welcomed to change in conversation. Alyssa pulled up his schedule on her computer.

 

“Ok, Figure Drawing. Glad to see someone is taking my advice.” She smiled pseudo-smugly. Alyssa had suggested an art class at some point last year after noticing some of his scribbles he would draw when he was particularly uninterested with what she was saying.

 

“Writing the Short Novel. Interesting choice. For someone so soft-spoken I shouldn’t be surprised.” He cocked his head in faux-distain. They were like this most of the time: Mr. Surly and Miss Tack-Sharp Wisecrack.

 

“Theories in Electronic Engineering?” She frowned as she read the course title. “I thought you were taking a history class?” Guy-Man played with his bracelet for a moment before answering.

 

“Yeah, well, it kinda conflicts with my other class.” Alyssa looked puzzled before she looked back to her screen.

 

“Ah, gotcha. Yeah, Intro to Film Studies. Ends at 12:30 Mondays and Wednesdays.  Got it. Hmm, how’s that been so far?” Guy-Man shrugged.

 

The class had their second meeting earlier that day. It had been a pretty lively discussion. Ok, pretty lively might have been an understatement…

 

***

 

“Look, I’m not saying that cinema isn’t high art but I don’t see you calling The Rock the next coming of Ingmar Bergman.”

 

“Film, cinema, it’s all art!”

 

“Oh come on, I’m pretty sure Saw V is not art.”

 

“Hey, I really like Saw V…”

 

“I’d rather see that than some black and white movie with no talking.”

 

“You gotta watch some Chaplin, man. That shit is tight.”

 

“What, reading too hard for you?”

 

“Class, class, please settle down.” Professor Bangalter had to intervene. The topic of discussion was classifying film and understanding the many multifaceted ways of looking at film. Sadly what had started as a thoughtful and structured discussion had given way to some rather base arguing over film as art versus film as commerce. Thomas brought the tense energy down to an apprehensive calm by quickly pulling up several film clips on YouTube highlighting the use of classic films in more contemporary ones: The Fifth Element and Metropolis, Die Hard and A Clockwork Orange, The Untouchables and Battleship Potemkin. He lost a couple with that last one so he tried Fight Club and Taxi Driver. That seemed to do the trick.

 

Guy-Man watched as he nervously but very tactfully moved the discussion from argument into calm. He spoke with his whole body: leaning in towards a person if he was speaking to them directly, the unconscious lift of his shoulders when a student understood a reference, his occasional stutter highlighted with his hands. It was endlessly fascinating. Guy-Man found himself captivated more with the way Professor Bangalter would flit excitedly around the classroom, occasionally making nonsensical notes on the whiteboard, than where the lecture was actually heading.

 

Professor Bangalter led the discussion towards homage and reference – much safer territory – and ended class with a brief lead-in to their screening for that evening, Citizen Kane.

 

“Citizen Kane might be the most important film of all-time. Yes, more important than The Godfather.” One student scoffed and leaned back. “The influence that this film has had on modern cinema is incredibly deep. Directors like Quentin Tarantino and Martin Scorsese have referenced Citizen Kane in their films. So pay attention and you’ll see that many moments may seem familiar.” He smiled to himself, excited to share the film with the class. “See you all tonight.”

 

***

 

“I like it so far.” Guy-Man replied, a small smile creeping into the corners of his mouth. Alyssa smiled back.

 

“Excellent.” She clicked something on her screen. “Bangalter? Must be a new professor, I don’t recognize the name. All the professors are great in that department so you’re definitely in good hands.” Guy-Man held in a snort. _If you saw those hands…_ He shifted in his seat.

 

“Well, let’s meet in a couple weeks and see how things are going, OK?” Guy-Man nodded and stood up, swinging his knapsack over his shoulder. He headed towards the door.

 

“And Guy-Man?” He turned to face her. “Have fun.”  He smiled, his dimples flashing.

 

“Now get out of here.”

 

***

 

“’Is reading too hard for you?’ Seriously?” Thomas nodded slowly as he continued biting at his thumbnail.  He slouched in his seat and picked at his food. The Humanities Café was oddly quiet with the lunch rush mostly gone and most classes in session. Thomas sipped on his diet Coke thoughtfully as Julian tore into his sandwich. Julian was a music PhD candidate at Stevenson and looked the part with his tight Hawaiian print shirt half unbuttoned underneath a denim shirt. Colorful streaks and feathers decorated his messy jet-black hair, his bangs occasionally falling into his large hazel eyes. He swallowed and eyed Thomas.

 

“Undergrads are always little shits. Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of them TA’ing Intro classes. All you can do is, you know, try to open their eyes to magic of undoing their dumbass ways.” He ended the statement with a flourish with his hands. Thomas just shook his head and ate his slice of pizza.

 

“Honest, it’s fine. The kids here like to show off how smart they are. Jockey for your favor. Happens in all the Intro classes here, especially over in SFMS. So welcome to the party.” Julian smirked.

 

Thomas was glad he actually had a friend here at Stevenson. With the School of Film and Media Studies – SFMS for short – harboring one of the more, well, mature faculties, Thomas knew he was going to be hard pressed to find close friends in that pool. Luckily he and Julian had met several years ago at a conference. Thomas had made a presentation on the role of music in Seventies film and afterwards had met Julian who was interested in introducing film into his Masters paper. The two struck up an easy friendship that had somehow lasted throughout the years. Having Julian around definitely made the transition to life at Stevenson a hell of a lot easier.

 

“Seriously, don’t let them get to you. It’s gonna be fine.” Julian wiped his mouth before changing the subject. “So, you’re thinking about a new multi-part course?”

 

Thomas perked up. He had been courting the idea of proposing a new multi-part course since he was a fellow at the Art Institute but now that he was actually a member of the faculty, the idea was that much closer to becoming a reality.

 

“Yeah. It would focus on sound and music in film. Two semesters, two courses. I mean, it’s all really amorphous right now. I wanted to have the students try and make their own piece of film music but I think that might be too much. I definitely want to do field trips along with screenings but again, that might be too much.” He was going a mile a minute, he could feel it. He tried to focus down his thoughts.

 

“I don’t know. I have a lot of ideas right now. Too many ideas. But I think I’ve got the beginning of something.” Thomas smiled shyly.

 

“Sick. It’s gonna be great.” Julian tapped his ice tea to Thomas’ diet Coke. Thomas shrugged and took a sip.

 

“I’m getting ahead of myself. I have to get through this semester first.” Julian rolled his eyes.

 

“You will get through to these keeeds!” Julian used his best Cartman impression, a very poor impression. Thomas snorted and threw a napkin at his friend.

 

***

 

“Non, Holly, you do not need to take notes during the screening.” Thomas smiled at the eager freshman as she tucked away her notepad back into her tote bag. The 100-seat theater was slowly filling, the two sections of Intro to Film Studies trickling in little by little. Thomas and the only other relatively young professor, Sam McArthur shared their screening time. Planning their screenings had been something of a small nightmare. Looking at the slightly outdated but time honored screening list for Cine 101, Thomas had proposed making some alterations. Professor McArthur was quick to shoot him down, clearly a traditionalist. After some light cajoling and heavy explanation to the faculty, Thomas had been able to slide a couple contemporary films into the rotation along with changing up the order slightly, much to McArthur’s chagrin.

 

With five minutes until they were supposed to start, McArthur was still a no show as was about half of Thomas’ class. It appeared that the entirety of McArthur’s class had shown up if he were to go by the young man who had seemed to take attendance on his iPad. Julian, there for moral support, sat in the back of the theater chatting with Colin, their projectionist for the semester. A rush of Thomas’ students filed in a minute or two later. He took a quick headcount and noted that only two students were missing. Not bad. Guy-Man sauntered in, helmet in hand, with a minute to spare. Thomas gave him a smile as Guy-Man passed. Guy-Man quickly looked to his helmet and took a seat.

 

McArthur stormed in right as the lights began to dim, snatching the iPad from the young man and checking it over before sitting down with an annoyed huff. Thomas rolled his eyes in the dark. The projector fired up, the pristine 35mm print projected perfectly on the large screen. Thomas leaned back and let himself get lost as the ominous opening music swelled.

 

Guy-Man had walked into the film thinking he would be bored. _Old movie, black and white, academics’ favorite film, this couldn’t be good._ But he found himself completely engaged, focused on the way the film moved. He could see how the film had influenced many others: the deep focus, the way the story moved in flashback, different minute things that normally he never noticed. The two hours slipped by quickly. When the lights finally came up, Guy-Man was grinning, ideas already spinning in his head. Professor Bangalter hopped up and stood by the door, handing out assignments for next week’s class as the students left.

 

“What did you think, Guy-Man?” Professor Bangalter asked as he approached the door. Guy-Man nodded.

 

“I really liked it.” Thomas grinned. _Damn that stupid smile._

 

“Great! I can’t wait to read your thoughts on it.” He handed him the assignment sheet and patted him on the shoulder. Guy-Man stepped out but lingered in the hallway, pretending to play with his phone. A tall man in a gaudy shirt came to the door and began chatting with Professor Bangalter. He definitely wasn’t one of his classmates but he looked too young to be one of the other professors in the department. The two talked quietly making it hard for Guy-Man to eavesdrop. He swore he heard the mystery man say something about playing with him, which made Professor Bangalter shake his head and laugh. Guy-Man raised an eyebrow. The mystery man turned and made eye contact with Guy-Man who quickly began playing with his phone before turning on his heel and hightailing it out of the building. By the time he got to his motorcycle, Guy-Man had thoroughly cussed himself out in his head. 

_Merde, I have a crush on that stupid professor._


	3. Required Reading

Guy-Man’s homework kept him from fixating too hard on Professor Bangalter. Well, that’s what he was telling himself as he sat in his room trying to focus on his writing assignment. He was supposed to be working on a short story based around a single character. He had initially started with a lonely outcast type that lived in a cabin in the mountains but little by little every detail seemed to correspond with Professor Bangalter: his mountain man beard, his earnest smile, his reedy height. Guy-Man deleted the document on his laptop and instead switched over to engineering. After spending several minutes reading the same sentence over and over and still not understanding, he shut the book and tossed it on his bed. He needed to get out.

 

He walked into the living room to see if his roommate Sebastien was around. The room was neat and tidy, proof that Sebastien had definitely not been around for quite some time. The man was a walking tornado most of time. If it wasn’t a wild mess of newspapers and thick philosophy books during the day, it was a trail of his and whoever he had brought home’s clothes leading from the front door to his bedroom. Guy-Man slumped onto their large sofa and played with his phone. It was a Thursday night and Guy-Man didn’t have class until 2pm tomorrow. _What to do? What to do?_ He ran through his contact list. Sebastien was probably at The Circle Stop for their weekly spoken word jam. _Chicks_ and _dudes love poetry, Guy-Man, I’m telling you. Non_ , no poetry tonight. He had too much on his mind already. He scanned through Facebook events. Nothing too promising for the night. He sighed as he dropped his phone and got up. He headed for the door, grabbing his helmet and keys.

 

Sometimes the rush of the wind was all he needed. He let his reflexes take over as he took the narrow winding roads that threaded around the seemingly rural towns ten minutes out from campus. Whenever Guy-Man needed a quick escape, he would take his motorcycle and ride around the flat countryside, day or night. The gentle roar of his bike against the near silence always cleared his mind. Out here there were no assignments, no attractive professors, no fussy parents, just him, his bike and brisk New England air. He sped through the night eventually weaving his way back into town refreshed and energized. By the time he returned home, he was ready to focus on his engineering homework.

 

Instead he was welcomed to Sebastien’s bare ass as he rummaged through their fridge.

 

“Jesus, man, put on some clothes.” Sebastien just turned his head and smiled wickedly, dropping several ice cubes in a large mug. Guy-Man rolled his eyes. _Of course he brought someone home._ And he did not want to know what he was going to do with those ice cubes. Sebastien made his way back to his room. He turned before he entered.

 

“By the way, somebody called. _Bon nuit_.” He shut the door, cooing at his partner for the evening, their giggles muffled through the door. Guy-Man checked his voicemail. _Father._ It had only been four days back at school and the phone calls had already started. He deleted the voicemail and switched the phone to silent. The muffled giggles were quickly devolving to not-so-muffled moans and gasps so Guy-Man retreated to his room, sliding on his headphones and blasting George Benson before tucking into his dense engineering text.

 

***

 

Guy-Man and Sebastien sat on the quad soaking up the late afternoon sun. Sebastien watched the coeds in short shorts playing Frisbee through his large black wraparound sunglasses. With his unruly beard, long hair and half buttoned dress shirt tucked into light linen pants, he looked like a young horny well-dressed hobo. Guy-Man laid back and stared at the sky, pink tinted through his large sunglasses.

 

“So, somebody has been playing the good student this week. Mum and Dad on your back already?” Guy-Man shut his eyes and scowled, recalling his wonderful hour-long conversation with his parents from the night before. He had stayed nearly silence throughout, letting his father rant loudly while his mother injected on occasion. The sunlight suddenly went dark and he opened his eyes to discover Sebastien’s head floating above him.

 

“That bad?”

 

“They said they would cut me off if I didn’t declare this semester.” Sebastien snatched of his glasses.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. They must have gotten to my advisor.” Guy-Man thought of poor Alyssa trying to evade his parents’ phone calls.

 

“I don’t understand why they’re always riding you. At least you’ve stayed put. And your grades have been pretty good.”

 

Pretty good didn’t really cover it. Flawless was closer. While Guy-Man appeared to be the most disaffected of all Stevenson students, his continual spot on the honor roll was a fact he hid from most. He shrugged.

 

“I mean, I’m doing OK.” Sebastien laid back, sliding his glasses back on.

 

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to do?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“You’ll figure it out. You always figure it out. I’m sure you already have a thousand ideas floating in that head of yours.” Guy-Man smirked, happy to have someone on his side.

 

“Well tonight I’m taking you out. There’s this hot girl from my German class who’s playing a set at The Wail tonight. You, me, the P’s, lots of booze, plenty of hot dudes, it’ll be just what the doctor ordered.” Guy-Man perked up. A night out would be the perfect antidote to his two-day funk.

 

***

 

Thomas had spent most of his Saturday alternating between downing coffee and agonizing over his lecture notes. He paused his slightly weathered copy of Citizen Kane for the hundredth time as he hopped up and grabbed more milk in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and sipped, the lukewarm beverage doing little to ease the knot in his stomach. He wasn’t feeling what he had so far. He was too wrapped up in trying to be a model teacher instead of enjoying the film like he told his students to. He needed to decompress, the confines of his one bedroom apartment tight. He poured out the contents of his mug into his sink and turned off his television. He pulled out his cell and thumbed through his contacts before landing on Julian. He picked up after a couple of rings.

 

“I’m in, let’s do it.” He smiled as Julian whooped on the other end.

 

***

 

Guy-Man walked in the already packed club shoulder to shoulder with Sebastien. The cool breezy evening turned humid as they entered. The club was relatively small and was crawling with undergrads and grad students alike. Not that you could really tell the difference in the dim light. Sebastien led them to the bar where they met up with the P’s: Pharrell and Pedro. Pharrell was a design and art history double major with flawless skin and the most eclectic fashion sense on campus. He had become a fixture on the campus fashion blog and had earned a style column in the school newspaper. Pedro was better known by his nickname Busy P and for a good reason, the guy was always busy. He had been one of the very few selected to the Stevenson BA/JD fast-track, a track that many apply for but a grand total of eight in the past fifteen years had been admitted to. Busy was the first student in two years to be selected and now took more classes at the law school than in the college. He also was involved in junior law review among a number of other extracurricular activities. _Busy._

 

They stood by the bar and drank, chatting about their already hectic schedules along with plans for the rest of the semester. Busy was chatting up girls left and right, his free night a treat after a rough week. Sebastien scanned the crowd, gauging the temperature of the room. Pharrell and Guy-Man were muttering about shoes, Pharrell admiring Guy-Man’s black and white loafers. They laughed and flirted and made merry before the lights plunged to black and the first act took the stage. They were a two-piece outfit made up of two gorgeously androgynous undergrads. The singer was a copper haired girl wearing an elaborate flower crown, intricate red and gold eye makeup and a filmy white t-shirt dress with a screen-printed wolf head. The DJ was a truly androgynous being with a sharp black bob peeking out from under a knit hat and silver hoop in their lip, dressed entirely in black.

 

“Hello,” The girl cooed into the mic, her German accent lilting the word. “My name is Maeve and this is Alex and we are Maeve and Moosen.” She smiled and nodded to Moosen and they launched into their first song. Their music was moody and sweet, the sound very European. Maeve sang about love and heartbreak with a depth of emotion that belied her youth. Moosen backed her up with an airy yet brassy soundtrack that had the crowd grooving. They played a brief set and were met with resounding cheers from the audience. Sebastien led them over to the pair who were now sitting in a corner near the stage, chatting excitedly. Sebastien and Maeve hugged and introductions were made. Sebastien immediately began flirting with Maeve while Guy-Man ended up talking to Moosen when he noticed their blue and white motocross jacket. They both shared a passion for motorcycles: Guy-Man with a love for classics like Harleys and Triumphs while Moosen preferred street racers like Kawasakis and Ducatis. They drank and chitchatted as the next band set up.

 

Guy-Man went to the bar to get the group a round of shots just as the band began to play.  While he waited for the bartender to pour their drinks, he found himself taken by the band. They had a sound straight from the Seventies, something like a modern take on the Velvet Underground. Their energy was electric as the crowd began to jump and dance to the beat, Guy-Man bobbing his head to the blistering bass line. The lead singer howled, his voice catching the spirit of Lou Reed with its gravel and tone. He wore a studded leather jacket with a black and white striped tee underneath, his jeans tight but not so much so. He wore a pair of black wayfarers – a look that would be ridiculous on most but on him was that perfect shade of 'Fuck you, I’m awesome' – and what looked like feathers in his colored streaked hair. Guy-Man knew that he recognized him from somewhere.

 

He looked at the rest of the band. The drummer and guitarists were unfamiliar but the bassist was instantly recognizable. He looked different in a faded old Back to the Future tee and a pair of ripped up jeans but he knew that shock of curly hair anywhere.

 

It was Professor Bangalter jamming on the bass with a huge grin on his face.

 

Guy-Man’s jaw hit the floor.


	4. Homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Life got in the way. But here's the new chapter!

While Thomas’ first love was film, he had always flirted with the idea of being a rock star. His musical tastes were pretty diverse ranging from the perfection that was mid-90’s R&B to the melancholy of Joni Mitchell. He played several instruments with practiced proficiency but never had the true desire to pursue a career as a musician. Instead he played in bands on occasion, a fun distraction when his studies and research would get too unwieldy. Julian had been pressing him to play after they had jammed in Thomas’ apartment during teacher orientation, the younger man surprised at Thomas’ prowess on the bass. Thomas had declined over and over but hitting the wall with his lecture, he knew the distraction would be welcome.

 

And what a pleasant distraction it was. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the base line. His fingers flew across the strings with ease as he bobbed his head to beat, blissed out and grinning. The group was tight and completely in sync. He was amazed that he was able to fall into step with the other four so easily. Julian was magnificent as a front man. His usually placid nature was now tense and coiled, bursting here and there as he connected with the crowd. It was all eyes on him as the band merely accompanied.

 

Well, almost all eyes on him. Guy-Man’s eyes were glued to Professor Bangalter. The somewhat frantic energy that he had in the classroom was calmed here, the energy channeled into the movement of his fingers and the slight bobbing of his head. Guy-Man smiled shyly to himself when his professor threw his head back when hit a particularly sweet note. _Merde. Merde merde merde._

 

“Guillaume Emmanuel, what the fuck, man?” Sebastien had a hand on his shoulder and he screamed in his ear. Immediately the spell was broken and he was back on Planet Earth. He and Sebastien scooped up their drinks from the bar and headed back to their table.

 

He sipped at his Budweiser as he threw glances at the stage. Professor Bangalter had his eyes closed as he tore away at a complicated beat, his lips parted just so. Guy-Man tore his eyes away from the sight. He tried to jump into the loud conversation but his mind kept wandering. He caught bits and pieces: interesting classes, upcoming shows, new movies, possible tattoos. But Guy-Man can’t help but drift back to the man on stage. Eventually Pedro hits him in the arm.

 

“Where you at, Guy-Man?”

 

“Oh, um, nothing. I just…” He took a long swig from his beer bottle, his eyes flicking up to the stage for a moment.

 

“You checking out the lead singer? I think Pharrell knows him.” Pedro laughed and turned to Pharrell, shouting the question in his ear. Pharrell raised an eyebrow and responded. Pedro nodded and turned back to Guy-Man.

 

“His name is Julian. P said he could introduce you after their done…”

 

“Non, non. Uh…” He tried to form an escape plan. “Uh, I’m gonna take a piss. Be back.” He was up and moving before the words were out of his mouth. He pushed through the crowd as the band launched into another big swell. He looked back to the stage and saw Thomas thrashing his head around and beaming. Guy-Man quickly slipped out the front door.

 

It took him two cigarettes before he deemed himself fit to rejoin his friends. He wasn’t one to get like this - never one to get flustered over someone - but here he was, standing outside their local club kicking at the sidewalk all over a cute guy. A cute professor. His professor. Like a professor would look twice at him, never mind someone like Professor Bangalter. _He’s probably banging the lead singer anyways._ He did a little shimmy, trying to shake off his thoughts. _It’s just a harmless crush. You’ll be over it soon enough._ He stubbed out his cigarette and headed back inside.

 

The band had finished their set and the techs were well into breaking down their equipment as Guy-Man pushed his way through the crowd. He stopped at the bar and grabbed a couple shots of Jameson before continuing to the table. When he finally got back, the crowd around them had grown exponentially. He managed to squeeze back into his seat next to Pedro, the shots quickly getting snatched up. Pedro stood, shot in hand.

 

“I want to propose a toast!  To two great sets, to good friends, and to another year at this hellhole! _Santé_!” The crowd roared and clinked glasses. As Guy-Man took his shot, he spied Julian and Professor Bangalter approaching their table. He choked on his drink a little, coughing hoarsely. Pedro looked over at him.

 

“You OK? You’ve been acting weird?” Guy-Man blushed.

 

“I’m fine.” He grabbed his beer and drank slowly. Julian and the professor had made it to the table and were talking to Pharrell. Pedro looked over his shoulder to figure out what he was staring at and turned back, a grin on his face.

 

“Oh I see. Hold on.” Pedro took the two steps over to where the three were talking. He whispered something in Pharrell’s ear before putting himself between P and the professor. Oh shit.

 

Pharrell turned Julian towards Guy-Man.

 

“Jules, you should meet my friend, Guy-Man. He’s from Paris. Guy-Man, this is Julian Casablancas. He went to some French boarding schools.” Guy-Man didn’t know what to do. He was frozen on the spot. He stood and shook Julian’s hand. He pulled off his sunglasses, his hazel eyes playful.

 

“I’ve seen you around. You’re in Intro to Film Studies, right?” Guy-Man dragged his eyes away from Professor Bangalter – currently laughing at something Pharrell was saying – and tried to focus on the man in front of him.

 

“Pardon?” He focused on Julian. A smirk played with the corner of his mouth.  _God, he’s tall._

 

“You’re in Intro to Film Studies?” Guy-Man blinked.

 

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Julian smiled, the effect made him look like a fifteen year old, not a grad student.

 

“Oh, Thomas, I mean, Professor Bangalter,” Julian stretched out his name dramatically, “played with our band. You’re not it McArthur’s class?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes before shouting “Hey, Thomas! I think this one is your class!”

 

Before Julian could finish the sentence, Guy-Man had already slipped away from Julian and was heading for the door. Sebastien yelled after him. Guy-Man didn’t dare look back. His cheeks on fire as he internally cussed himself out.

 

“Weird kid…” Julian muttered as he pulled out a cigarette and lit up before rejoining the rest of the group.

 

***

 

Sebastien knocked on his door late the next morning but Guy-Man was still too embarrassed to answer. After he heard Sebastien shut the front door – he had mentioned something about making a video with some friends, whatever that involved – he finally emerged from his room. He grabbed a chunk of baguette from the kitchen and settled on the living room couch, firing up his laptop. He quickly pulled up Facebook and began hunting.

 

He started by typing in Thomas Bangalter. No results. Guy-Man frowned and then tried Julian Casablancas. Result number one. Success. He browsed around his wall, looked through some of his pictures – mostly photos from shows at The Wail – and finally though his about me. Nothing all that illuminating. He was a music PhD with a love of music, big surprise.

 

Guy-Man looked through his friends list. _God, what am I doing? I should stop. I should definitely stop._ While browsing through the B’s, he stumbled upon it.

 

_You can’t be serious?_

 

There it was: a black and white photo of Professor Bangalter. Well, Guy-Man was about 85 percent sure it was him since his hand was over his face. But it was the name that made him pause.

 

Thommy Bang Bang

 

Guy-Man shook his head and clicked on his name. The page was partly locked but he could see a couple of photos. It was definitely Professor Bangalter. Guy-Man slammed down the screen of his laptop. _I can’t._ He got up and got a glass of water in the kitchen.  He leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. _This has to stop. He’s my professor. Nothing good can come of this._

 

He sipped on his water for several minutes, lost in his thoughts. He walked back to his room, trying to forget about his professor’s profile. Instead he dove into his homework. With Intro to Film Studies as his only class on Monday, he knew he should focus on getting his critical response to Citizen Kane finished but thinking about Citizen Kane led to thinking about Professor Bangalter and he couldn’t have that. So he focused on his figure drawing.

 

But then every figure ended up as a variation of the professor jamming with the band: the tendons in his neck, the tension in his hands, his threadbare shirt. He balled up sheet after sheet before giving up and sinking into his engineering book. At this rate, he’d be a world-class electronic engineer since it was the only thing that kept him from thinking about Professor Bangalter.

 

***

 

Thomas woke up late Sunday morning with a small hangover and a big appetite. He got up and walked into his cramped living room to find Julian asleep on his couch, his long legs dangling off of one end.  He still has his sunglasses on as he snored slackjawed. Thomas shook his head and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As the scent of bacon and eggs grew stronger, Julian’s snores died down, eventually turning into a hungry Julian trying to eat out of the pan. Luckily a couple pointed cracks of the spatula against his hands got him to back off.

 

The pair settled on the couch and watched cable while they ate. Julian put his feet on Thomas’ cluttered coffee table and ate quietly.

 

“Do you have a long-haired French kid in your Intro class?” Thomas paused and thought for a moment.

 

“What?”

 

“Long dark hair, light eyes, kinda short, definitely French?” Thomas ran the description through his mind.

 

“Oui. Yes. Guy-Man. Quiet. Seems a little…serious.”

 

“Yeah. Well, he was at the show last night.”

 

“No way.”

 

“He was. Seems kinda weird.”

 

“What?! Non, I think he’s just a little shy.”

 

“Well, more importantly he’s cute. Very cute.”

 

“He’s my student.” Julian snorted.

 

“Yeah, but it’s ok to have functioning eyes. And functioning eyes would notice that he’s a babe. Just saying.” Thomas turned and gave Julian his dirtiest stare. Julian just threw his head back and laughed, sending his fork flying to the ground.

 

“Oh Thomas, my dear sweet innocent Thomas. I’m just fucking with you.” Julian stood and took their now-empty plates before heading into the kitchen.  Thomas sat back on the couch and tried to focus on the television. But his mind couldn’t help but wander. _Maybe that kid was kinda cute?_


	5. Assignment #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus. My life's been a mess and this was a frustrating chapter. Should be fewer breaks from here on out.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thomas sat in his office examining his lesson plan. He muttered the points to himself for the tenth time. He nodded to himself before his phone alarm alerted him.

 

_Time for class._

 

Week three and he was feeling more and more confident with each class. They were a lively group: attentive, intelligent, an interesting collective that always had something to say. It made his job that much easier. Even though it was early in the semester, he felt like he could get a sense what some of his students were going to do for their first major assignment for the class. He smiled to himself as he walked into the classroom.

 

While they had shifted around in the first week of class, everyone now had their unspoken but established seats, making it easy for Thomas to tell who was late. Usually the class was mostly on time with one or two stragglers, Guy-Man consistently amongst them. But today even that usually empty seat to his left was filled, it’s owner chewing nervously at his thumbnail. Thomas couldn’t help but grin just a little wider as he set down his laptop.

 

“Morning, Guy-Man.” Guy-Man looked up, a little startled.

 

“Morning, Professor.” Guy-Man immediately ducked his head down again. Thomas hooked up his laptop as he began class.

 

“So, we began our class by watching Citizen Kane and now we have stepped back, looked at the very beginnings of film with the trick films Georges Méliès and Edwin Porters and then early narrative films by D.W. Griffith but this week I want to focus on something a little more fun for everyone and not just Andrew.” Andrew shrugged; the kid sure loved his early film history. Thomas pulled up a clip on his laptop and leaned against the whiteboard as the clip played: Charlie Chaplin getting into some kind of hijinks.

 

“Comedy! Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and the often forgotten but equally excellent Harold Lloyd. The gentlemen started making comedy shorts that would run before big features. Think the Pixar shorts that run before the movie. Chaplin’s The Kid was the first major comedy hit in Hollywood history and soon Keaton and Lloyd followed suit.”

 

The class’ interest was piqued as Thomas played several more clips featuring the legends of early comedy. They laughed and snorted and eagerly discussed the merits of Chaplin and Keaton as well as their parallels in films by contemporary actors like Will Ferrell and Adam Sandler. Even Guy-Man, his most taciturn student, was smiling, his blue eyes dancing along to the clips. _He’s quite attractive when he smiles like that._ Thomas could feel the heat of a blush creeping onto his face as he stuttered his next sentence.

 

_Oh God, he’s stuttering again._ Guy-Man focused on taking notes. Even though it had been a couple weeks since he had seen Professor Bangalter at The Wail, his infatuation hadn’t passed. Sometimes it felt like a dream, like the dreamy bassist could not possibly be the same stuttering, smiling teacher pacing the classroom. He preferred to think of him that way, to try and separate the two. It didn’t matter though, either or, he was still taken by his professor.

 

“Ok, so if you’ve read the syllabus, you’ll know that your first paper is due next week.” Everyone groans in unison. “It’s eerie when you all do that at once.” They laugh in response.

 

“For this paper, I want you to examine an genre or particular film and compare and contrast it to contemporary film. I want to see what connections film today has with film of the past. What’s remained the same? What’s changed? You can choose any topic that we’ve covered so far including what we’ve covered today and what we will cover on Wednesday. Papers are due next Wednesday in class, so please, you have been warned. And remember, my office hours are 2 till 4 tomorrow afternoon in my office. Class dismissed. Have a great afternoon!”

 

Guy-Man quickly gathered his things and hustled out of the classroom. He wanted to stick around, maybe ask a question or two about the paper but he knew that he would end up gawking or worse.

 

A couple students immediately flocked around him but he couldn’t help but watch as Guy-Man slipped out quietly. _Mysterious, that one._ A part of him longer to know what went on in that mind of his. He was sharp, he could tell by the well though out responses he had written. He just seemed…he couldn’t quite put his thumb on it.

 

“Professor?” Holly tapped on the desk impatiently. He shook off the reverie and got down to answering questions.

 

***

 

The three and a half hour break between his two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays had proven to be quite the time suck. He was diligent about his homework so everything was done the night before. It wasn’t enough time to go home and nap so that was out of the picture. Last week he had a reluctant hour-long call with his parents since the time different meant that they were home having dinner. Tough one that was. Luckily he bought himself some time so not all was lost.

 

This afternoon he found himself in the library scouring over his notes and film textbook. Since he was caught up with everything, he may as well start on his essay.

 

Only problem was that he had no idea where to start.

 

The early history was honestly pretty boring. The D.W. Griffiths was a little unwieldy. He poured over the text yet again looking for something, anything to write about. He took a break to grab lunch at the student café and took time to do some sketching in preparation for his figure drawing class but alas he still had too much time on his hands. He finally gave up, tossing his books back into his knapsack. He checked his phone. 2:15. Another 45 minutes until class. _What to do, what to do._

He left the library frustrated. Getting some sun definitely helped his mood as he slowly made his way across campus. It was still warm even for mid-September. The leaves had begun to turn, a couple strewn across the pathways, occasionally crunching underneath his motorcycle boots. A light breeze blew threw the quad, catching in Guy-Man’s hair. The quad was fairly quiet, classes still in session. A couple students sat a picnic benches reading. A few girls sunbathed in their shorts and t-shirts. Just a peaceful Tuesday at Stevenson.

 

The fine arts studios were on the far side of campus – a five minute walk – so Guy Man tried to find something to keep himself from getting there too quick. The SFMS building came into view. He’d have to pass it to get to class. _And Professor Bangalter should still be holding office hours_. He shrugged and headed into the building.

 

The School of Film and Media Studies was one of Stevenson’s crown jewels and was treated as such. A hefty gift of several million dollars meant that SFMS had the nicest building on campus: a brand new, four story architectural beauty. The first floor lead you to the screening rooms, two smaller rooms for around fifty and their state-of-the-art 100 person theater. The second floor was home to their extensive film library, equipped with viewing stations and places to read. The third floor, classrooms, and the fourth, faculty offices. Guy-Man opted for the elevator for once and headed up, tapping his foot as the elevator arrived to the fourth floor much too quickly.

 

He could hear someone playing the guitar faintly down the hallway. As he approached the Professor’s office, he realized that it was him. He played a quick complicated tune, the style like the musical embodiment of chicken scratch. He peeked his head in the door and there he was, back to the door, feet propped up on his desk as he played with a little shake to his shoulders.

 

“Lose yourself to dance!” he sang in a shaky falsetto before dissolving into quiet laughter. Guy-Man knocked on the door and he shot around. Guy Man was still getting used to the fact that he had shaved off his beard - turns out he has a mole on his right cheek - a light stubble now decorating his face. He smiled warmly and invited Guy-Man.

 

“It’s been a slow day.” He explained as he set aside his guitar. His office was tiny yet he made it personal. What little wall space he had was covered in old movie posters – The Creature from the Black Lagoon, The French Connection, Star Wars. His bookshelf was overflowing with film journals, books and DVDs, an miniature silver robot helmet sitting on one of the shelves.

 

“That’s Gort.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“The helmet. It’s the robot Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still. Old sci-fi film. You might like it.” He sat back down. “What can I help you with, Guy-Man?”

 

“Um, it’s the paper. I, uh, I…” he played with his hands. _Breathe damnit._ “Honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I’m surprised. Your responses have been really great so far. What exactly is giving you trouble?”

 

“I’m having trouble figuring out a topic.” Thomas stroked his chin.

 

“Well, what kinds of movies do you like?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I know, seems off-topic, but what kind of movies do you like? Comedy, drama, action?”

 

“I…uh, I never really thought about it to be honest.”

 

“Think about it. I find it a lot easier to write about the things I enjoy rather than have to struggle through something boring.” Thomas studied him. “You seemed to like Citizen Kane, right?”

 

Guy-Man nodded.

 

“Maybe watch a couple clips of youtube, see what you think, maybe write about that?”

 

He had forgotten about Citizen Kane. He smiled shyly.

 

“I’ll do that.” Thomas clapped his hands.

 

“Fantastic!” Thomas spun around in his chair. “And you know what, take my copy.” He spun back and handed Guy-Man a well-worn DVD case. “The main library doesn’t carry it and the film library always has it lent out.”

 

Guy-Man fingered the corners of the case, his head bowed to hide his shock.

 

“Um, thanks Professor.”

 

“It’s no problem. But I do want you to do one thing for me.”

 

Guy-Man looked up.

 

“T-tomorrow,” _God, he does have beautiful eyes._ “Tomorrow, I want you to tell me what movies you like.”

 

“Sure.” Guy-Man’s face lit up.

 

“You wanna know something, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

 

Guy-Man could feel a faint blush rising.

 

“S-sorry.”

 

“It’s ok. Um, what time is it?” Thomas looked over at a clock behind Guy-Man.

 

“2:57.”

 

“Merde! I’ve got class!” Guy-Man hopped up and dashed out. 


	6. Office Hours

“Guy, you look like shit.” Chester raised an eyebrow as Guy-Man slid behind his easel.

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, you look crazy. Breathe. Everything ok?” Chester sharpened his charcoal with a straight razor while examining Guy-Man.

 

“Yeah, just go caught up with office hours. What are we doing?”

 

“Partner draw. Portraits. And you’re my partner. Obviously.” Guy-Man smiled. He and Chester had become fast friends. Maybe because they both quiet until you got to know them. Maybe because they found their teacher’s ‘artistic manifesto’ to be a load of hyper intellectual bullshit.  Maybe because they just found each other highly entertaining. Guy-Man found it nice to have a friend that was pretty removed from rest of his life. He turned to face Chester. His face betrayed the fact that he was a junior like Guy-Man. He didn’t look at day out of junior high. Soft cheeks, large, nearly sorrowful eyes. He remembers one of their first conversations. _Has anyone every told you you’d make a beautiful woman? Well since I was born with a vagina, I guess that would make sense._ And that was that.

 

Guy-Man decided to go with hard pencils, capturing Chester’s face in light, fragile lines, using his eraser as little as possible.

 

“You’re hiding something.” Chester smiled.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I can see it. It’s this tension right around your eyes. What’s up?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit. Spill.” Guy-Man sighed. You could never hide something from someone who reads faces for a living.

 

“I, uh, have a thing for this dude. But I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I would say just tell him but I mean, that’s the stupidest piece of advice anyone ever gives. What’s the problem?”

 

“He’s my professor.”

 

Chester stopped and stared. He chuckled after a moment and continued.

 

“Well, you’re fucked my friend.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me.”

 

“Since I can’t help you with your love jones, my girlfriend’s visiting from up north next week. We’re gonna catch a midnight movie that Friday. Phantom of the Paradise. Interested?”

 

Guy-Man didn’t have any plans and the distraction would be appreciated.

 

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

 

“Awesome. It’s a little like Rocky Horror so it’s gonna be nuts.”

 

“Perfect.” They both laughed and kept drawing. At the end of the period, their professor came around giving quick critiques. Chester turned to Guy-Man’s while she was on the other side of the room. He had captured his partner perfectly, every line necessary, an emotive piece.

 

“Jesus, Guy-Man, you ever think of being a professional artist?”

 

“Funny. Very funny.”

 

***

 

Thomas spent the majority of his Wednesday morning prepping for the 3pm faculty meeting. He was hoping to begin the process of proposing his new class. He bounced ideas off of Julian for a couple of days and was finally feeling secure in his idea. Now to just make it through the meeting and get the ball rolling officially…

 

He let class be his distraction from the stress, letting the class discussion on slapstick tropes ease his mind. The class pretty much took care of itself, a little lecture here, a whole lot of group discussion there. Easy.

 

“OK, remember, screening downstairs tonight. 5pm! We’ll be watching City Lights and Safety First and they are both fantastic. See you tonight.” The class packed and headed out. _Oh, Guy-Man._

 

“Hey Guy-Man, stick around for a minute.”

 

“Ok…”

 

“Oh no, it’s nothing wrong,” the last student walked out. “I just wanted to check in with you. Figure out your topic?”

 

“Yeah. Modern fixation on media figures.”

 

“Sounds like a good start.” Guy-Man blushed furiously. “And how about what you like? “

 

Guy-Man put down his bag and leaned against the table.

 

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it all night and I can’t think of one particular kind of movie.”

 

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, I know. My roommate thinks it’s weird. I like Star Wars. But who doesn’t like Star Wars. It’s not like I could name the two robots…”

 

“C-3PO and R2-D2.”

 

“Yeah, no. I like most things. I had to watch The Notebook with my cousin once. Horrible. But other than that, I don’t know.” Guy-Man shrugged. Thomas stroked his chin. Must be a habit. He suddenly smacked the table, his eyes bright.

 

“Well, that will be our challenge.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“To figure out what you like.”

 

Now it was Guy-Man’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Thomas realized how his words sounded and backpedaled.

 

“I-I mean, figure out what kinds of movies you like. It’ll help you figure out what to write about for the end of the semester.” Thomas blushed furiously. Guy-Man just nodded slowly. “So this weekend, go to the theater, check out something. Anything that catches your eye.”

 

“Sure, Professor.”

 

“See you at the screening tonight?”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

Thomas smiled.

 

“Great. Great. Well I don’t want you to be late for your next class… “ Thomas tugged at the sleeve of his sweater. “I’ll see you tonight.” Guy-Man could’ve sworn he heard a sense of longing in his words but he knew he had to be imagining it.

 

“I’ll see you tonight.” Guy-Man grabbed his knapsack and with a nod of his head, left the classroom.

 

***

 

With a faculty with a median age of 50, faculty meetings tended to be a pretty staid event. Thomas discovered this the hard way, nearly falling asleep through several ‘brief’ reports on class size and curriculum. He made his actually brief report on his class so far to a pleased hum and a pointed frown by Professor McArthur. When it finally came time to open discussion on the schedule for the spring, Thomas perked up. Professor Kennedy, the department chair, took the reigns.

 

“We’re going to be looking for someone to take on Euro New Wave but also with Professor Marshall going on a sabbatical next semester, we now have an opening for a new class for next quarter.” Thomas couldn’t help but grin as she continued. “If you have a proposal, please drop me an email and we’ll have a chat. We’ll begin taking proposals during week five, I know not the most ideal time, and then we’ll do presentations week eight. Again, please email me to schedule a meeting before you turn in your proposal. I think that does it. Thanks everyone!” The faculty filed out quickly, talking amongst themselves. McArthur had already hopped up and was crowding Professor Kennedy, bum rushing her with questions. Thomas headed for the door.

 

“Thomas! Hold on.” Professor Kennedy cried out. She politely excused herself from McArthur and walked up to Thomas. “You’re thinking about proposing a new class,  I take it?” Thomas grabbed his wrist.

 

“Yes. I had a couple of ideas.” Professor Kennedy smiled.

 

“Fantastic! Right now it looks like it’s just you and McArthur. The older professors are…set in their ways. Working on books. It’ll be good to get some fresh perspectives.” She patted his arm conspiratorially. “Let’s talk next week, OK? 3pm Wednesday?”

 

“S-sounds great!” Thomas was floored. Kennedy gave his arm one more pat before heading to her office. McArthur knocked into his shoulder hard and left the room. Looks like things were looking up after all. He smiled to himself as he made his way back to his office.

 

***

 

“What the fuck did you do to Captain Underpants?” Julian stage whispered as they sat in the back of the theater. It was five minutes before the beginning of the screening and McArthur and just stormed in, a bull on a rampage as he snapped at  his attendance taker.

 

“What makes you think it was me?” Thomas pulled at his sweater, uncomfortable with McArthur’s less than pleasant manner with his students.

 

“Sam’s been here a year and he’s never acted like this big of a shithead. He’s always trying to suck the dicks of the old farts in your department so he’s always on his best behavior. But he’s also competitive. Dude got kicked out of the faculty volleyball league thanks to his short fuse.” Thomas cringed. “So I take it the faculty meeting must have gone well in your favor?” Julian looked at Thomas. He smiled nervously.

 

“Kennedy already scheduled a prelim meeting.” Julian cheered in his seat.

 

“Fuck yeah, motherfucker!” A couple sorority girls looked back in disgust. “You’re totally gonna get it.”

 

“Well, Sam is also going to propose.”

 

“Whatever, he’s an asshole and they love you. You’re gonna be fine.”

 

Guy-Man walked in, helmet in hand, and searched for a seat. Thomas caught his eye and waved.

 

“What are you do…” Guy-Man waved back shyly and quickly found a seat. “Oh shit,” Julian leaned toward Thomas and dropped his voice to a whisper, “Weird kid? You’re into him?”

 

“Jesus, could you be any louder? He dropped by my office hours yesterday. He’s…interesting.”

 

“I’m not judging. I’m the one who said he was cute!”

 

“Just drop it, ok? He’s my student.”

 

“I mean you wouldn’t be the first…”

 

“Drop it.” The steel in Thomas’ voice caused Julian to back off. The lights dimmed and the show began.

 

***

 

The screening was a hit. Thomas was genuinely surprised by the raucous laughter from nearly every student. He was pretty sure he heard someone sniffling after a particularly great set of gags by Chaplin. The energy was electric as he left the screening room. Julian had slipped out towards the end of the second film – something about band practice – so after swinging by his office to grab his laptop he headed out to his fixed speed to ride back to his apartment.

 

Except it wasn’t there.

 

He searched both bike racks in a panic. His bike was gone. _It’s only been a month!_   Of course something had to dampen his good mood. Plus he really liked his bike.

 

“Professor?” Thomas turned around in surprise.

 

“Oh, Guy-Man, hi. You enjoy the films?” Guy-Man nodded.

 

“Yeah, they were great. I really liked Safety Last.”

 

“Great. Harold Lloyd is definitely underrated.”

 

“Is everything OK? I saw you pacing.”

 

“Oh, um, well, my bike was stolen.”

 

“ _Merde._ That’s so shitty.” They stood there for a moment, both at a lost for words. “Do you need a ride home? I have an extra helmet in my bike.” Guy-Man’s brow was furrowed in concern. Thomas smiled.

 

“Sure.” The pair walked towards the street where Guy-Man was parked.

 

“You ever ride on a motorcycle?” Guy-Man handed Thomas his spare helmet.

 

“I haven’t.”

 

“It’s pretty easy, just put your feet on these,” he pointed at the foot holders, “and then just hold on to me. Simple.” _Please God don’t let me kill my professor._

 

Thomas took to it with ease, winding his long arms around Guy-Man and holding on tight. The engine roared as they took off. It was a perfect night for a ride: not too chilly or windy, the air crisp as they rode on. Guy-Man hadn’t ridden with anyone for a long time so having the connection was nice, never mind the fact that it was Professor Bangalter. Thomas was excited, the world so different from the back of the bike. It was a smooth ride that was over too soon as they pulled in front of Thomas’ walk up.

 

“Come up for coffee? It’s the least I can do.” Thomas handed back the helmet.

 

“Ok.” He parked the bike and headed up with Thomas, butterflies suddenly taking residence in his stomach.

 

Thomas’ apartment was a lot like his office, tight but still personal. A huge flat screen took up a good amount of one wall while posters and bookcases loaded with DVDs and movie memorabilia took up most of the others. Thomas brewed coffee in a French press while Guy-Man explored the shelves. The DVDs covered every and any era and genre but the posters were a little more specific. Most were sci-fi – Flash Gordon, Star Wars, Alien – along with some Seventies classics – Taxi Driver, All the President’s Men, The French Connection.

 

“My specialty is music in film, particularly Seventies films. My dissertation was all about how filmmakers in the Seventies completely changed the way we heard music in movies.” Thomas explained. “But that’s why I have all the posters.”

 

“Awesome.” A DVD stuck out to him. He pulled it out. “Oh, The Day the Earth Stood. The helmet from your office, right?”

 

Thomas was walking the press and two mugs to the coffee table when Guy-Man asked.

 

“Yeah. We could watch a little if you’d like. Unless you need to go….”

 

“Oh, no that would be great. I don’t have class till the afternoon.” Guy-Man walked the disc over to the TV and popped it in the DVD player. The pair settled on the couch with their coffees as the credits rolled. They couldn’t help but smile to themselves as they got comfortable, happy to be in one another’s company but afraid to let the enjoyment show. The stress of Thomas’ day got the better of him and he was knocked out midway through the film. Guy-Man was engrossed in the film but soon the exhaustion from having already watched two films that day got the better of him and he too fell asleep, his body pressed alongside Thomas’. Thomas unconsciously wrapped one arm around Guy-Man and pull his throw blanket over them with the other, slipping back into a peaceful sleep.


	7. Midterms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna start actually getting explicit from here on out. Not so much this chapter but consider yourselves warned.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thomas woke to the sound of his buzzer, the obnoxious DVD menu drowned out by the incessant buzz buzz buzz. _Why the hell did I fall asleep on the couch? I was watching a movie?_ The buzzing stopped and he laid back down. As he burrowed to get comfortable, he caught an unfamiliar scent. Cigarettes and a spicy cologne.

 

_Oh God. Guy-Man._

 

He shot up, panicking. He was fully dressed so they hadn’t…he didn’t want to go there. They just fell asleep. Together. _Oh God._

 

Thomas’ phone blasted from his bedroom. He rushed to answer it.

 

“I know you’re in the apartment. Let me in.” Julian drawled on the other end of the line.  Thomas grumbled a response and rushed over the intercom. When he opened the door, there was Julian…

 

Rolling in Thomas’ bike.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Thomas stepped into the kitchenette and started to make himself coffee. “You stole my bike?”

 

“It worked, didn’t it? Well, not as well as I wanted to but it’s a start.” Thomas froze and turned to face his friend.

 

“What do you mean it worked?”

 

“The weird kid…”

 

“Guy-Man…”

 

“Whatever. He gave you a ride home on his very nice motorcycle and you invited him up. But since you’re still dressed in what I left you in, you two didn’t…”

 

“No! No.” Thomas walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the French press. He kept talking as he washed it clean. “We started watching a movie and fell asleep.”

 

“Well he hustled out pretty early.”

 

“Were you…spying?” Julian flopped down across the couch.

 

“Look, you and this kid are the most entertaining part of my life right now. So yeah maybe. Just a little.” He grabbed the remote and laid back as he flipped the TV over to cable and settled on Family Feud. Thomas muttered countless curses in French all the while wondering what Guy-Man could possibly be thinking.

 

***

 

_What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t have gone up there and I sure as hell shouldn’t have fallen asleep._

 

He had woken up, warm and content, an arm draped over him. He blinked his eyes open and realized he wasn’t in his apartment, the décor all-wrong. And then it hit him. _Motorcycle ride, movie, merde._ He rolled over and found Professor Bangalter curled against him, his long limbs tucked around Guy-Man’s body perfectly. He was even more handsome asleep, his entire face unguarded.  His lips, pillow soft and parted. It would be easy just to lean down and kiss him. He fought the temptation. This was a precarious enough situation as it was.

 

He reluctantly untangled himself from his Professor – _should I just call him Thomas?_ – and grabbed his jacket and helmet and quickly hustled out.

 

He now sat in his short story class – _how the hell did I forget that I had class this morning?_ – listening but miles away. _What am I going to do? I mean, it’s not like we…did anything. It’ll be fine. I just have to be cool._

 

He laughed at himself, earning a weird look from the girl sitting next to him. Honestly, he didn’t know the first thing about playing it cool.

 

***

 

Guy-Man spent the remainder of his Friday afternoon servicing his motorcycle. He planned on heading out to the countryside all day Saturday to clear his mind of the events of Wednesday. Since then all he could think about was waking to the warmth of Thomas pressed against him, cocooning him. He imagined Thomas pressing his lips against the back of his neck, his breath warm, his hand sliding under his shirt and touching him. Turning around and meeting those hazel eyes, pupils blown, a teasing smile. Kissing him. Stripping him. Sucking him. Fucking him.

 

If he had jerked off to those thoughts once… OK twice… Well, the trip was a necessity before he ended up chafing his dick from jerking off way too much.

 

The sun was beginning to dip as he finished up, lovingly waxing and buffing his bike until is reflected the sunset perfectly. He smiled and wiped his brow as he headed into the apartment.

 

“Guy-Man!” Sebastien poked his head out of his room. “I was thinking about catching a film down at the cinema. Wanna go?”

 

“What are they showing?”

 

“Die Hard. Bruce Willis!” Sebastien grinned.

 

“Sure, why not.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Sebastien clapped his hands.

 

“Great. I’ll see if the P’s are down too. Get dressed.” He shut the door with a flair. As Guy-Man got dressed, he could hear Sebastien ringing up the other guys. Looked like it would be a good night after all.

 

***

 

“Die Hard.”

 

Guy-Man had gotten to the classroom early, thrumming with excitement. He stood outside the classroom waiting for Thomas. When he appeared in the hallway dressed in a slim cut pair of dark wash jeans and a white button-down – slim but still slightly baggy on his lean frame – Guy-Man could feel his heart pump just a little faster. He said the words quietly but Thomas stopped nonetheless, a smile creeping onto his face.

 

“I take it you saw it on Friday?”

 

“And then marathoned the rest on Saturday.” Yes, instead of taking a ride on Saturday, he and the guys bought the Die Hard boxset and treated themselves to a day on the couch watching John McClane blow up as many things as humanly possible. It was just what the doctor ordered.

 

Thomas laughed softly, the whole scenario much less awkward than he had imagined. He had spent most of his Monday worried about this very moment. But instead, it was easy.

 

“The car into the helicopter in the fourth one?”

 

“Ridiculous but so good.” They both laughed.

 

“Well, I need to start class.” Guy-Man jumped and stepped into the classroom.

 

***

 

He was loath to admit it but his attraction was getting in the way of his schoolwork. Well, actually it was good for all of his other courses – he was several assignments ahead in engineering much to his delight – but as for his film paper, not so much. He couldn’t help it. Every time he would try to sit and write his paper he would daydream.

 

Today the daydream was him lying flat on Thomas’ couch as Thomas rode his cock. He could see it all crystal clear: the sweat beading along his hairline, his thick chest hair damp, the arch of his back and he ground down with a achingly slow pace, his lips parted and glistening. Guy-Man was hard as he ran to the shower, standing under the cold water as he tried to stave off the daydream. No, still rock hard. He turned up the temperature and lathered himself. His body was sensitive, each brush of his hand going straight to his cock. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He let his mind wander as he took his cock in hand, slowly stroking himself as he imagined Thomas on his knees in front of him, his hands massaging his thighs as he licked a broad stripe up his cock. He thumbed at his slit, imagining Thomas kitten licking the crown before taking his cock in his mouth nice and slow. He moaned, the sound bouncing around the shower as he stroked, his grip tight. He could see Thomas, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he greedily took his cock, swallowing as much as he could, pushing himself to please Guy-Man. He paused and looked up, his hazel eyes pleading as he stroked his cock furiously and Guy-Man came, imagining the ropes of come spilling across Thomas’ parted lips.

 

_Merde._

 

And he still wasn’t done with his paper.

 

***

 

Thomas spent his Friday afternoon marking his class’ papers while reflecting over the events of the week. 

 

Tuesday had been unremarkable. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was hoping Guy-Man would show for his office hours. They had ended up chatting after class about action films. And what struck him was how easy it was even if he was fighting the knot in his chest. When they talked, he didn’t stutter, his words slipping easily from him. It was comfortable, so comfortable. And as they parted ways on the staircase, Thomas to go to his office and Guy-Man to head back out to the quad, he realized he wanted to see him again soon. And not in the context of teacher-student, but as equals. Guy-Man was far more interesting than he let on. There was a depth to him that seemed untapped. Mysteries yet to be discovered.

 

But alas, they went their separate ways. When Thomas saw him next in class, there was a weariness to him. He looked rundown, his hair messy in a completely unintentional way, his clothes slept in and a little worse for the wear. Guy-Man sighed softly when he handed his paper in at the end of class, sliding it next to him before zipping out the classroom.  That evening he didn’t show up for their screening, much to Thomas’ befuddlement and disappointment.

 

But on a positive note, Wednesday also welcomed his meeting with Professor Kennedy. He sat in her sizeable office, the floor to ceiling windows looking out over the quad and surrounding buildings. She grabbed him a bottle of water and they began.

 

“So Thomas, I’m so excited to hear your proposal. What are you thinking?”

 

“Well, as you know, my graduate thesis was on the shift in soundtracks and musical usage in film during the 1970s and the New Hollywood filmmakers. So I wanted to propose a two-part course on music in film. The first part would cover scores and music from the beginnings of film up until the collapse of the studio system at the end of the Second World War. The second part would be New Hollywood to now, examining new practices and methods for film scoring and musical usage.” Thomas paused and let his breath even out. Professor Kennedy beamed.

 

“I love it, Thomas. We haven’t had a music specialist in a really long time. Plus I know that you’re friendly with Julian over in the Music Department, right?”

 

“Yes. We go way back.”

 

“I think it’s a great start. It definitely would bring some needed change to the class offerings and I imagine students would really enjoy it.”

 

“Thank you so much, Professor.”

 

“So, the next step is the formal proposal. It needs to be a minimum of five pages outlining a prospective syllabus, how the course will impact the department’s offerings, so on and so forth. From there, the committee will go over the proposal, we’ll have a sit-down and chat about our thoughts and then there will be final approvals from both our department and the College.” Thomas exhaled.

 

“I know, it’s a lot but it’s only you and Sam McArthur. No pressure.”

 

So just Sam. He tried not to think about his dirty scowls and pointed remarks and instead focus on his proposal. If Julian was right and Professor Kennedy’s enthusiasm was to be trusted, he was feeling a little confident.

 

He finished grading Holly’s paper – Excellent work. I look forward to your next paper! – and took a break, grabbing a half full bottle of red wine from the fridge and pouring himself a glass. He settled back down on the couch, glass in hand, and started on the next paper.

 

 _Ah, Guy-Man. Media fixation and Citizen Kane. Ok_. He began to read.

 

Five minutes later and he was a little dismayed. It wasn’t that the paper was bad – it definitely wasn’t the worst – but it was just…a mess. He had a lot of thoughts, all of which were quite good and insightful, but no cohesion.  He pieced out everything that was there and made notes before giving him a final grade of a B-. _Come and see me during office hours._

***

 

Guy-Man pulled up to the theater with little time to spare. The independent theater was a town over – a 10-minute ride on his motorcycle – but somehow he still managed to be late. He blamed Sebastien who had been pranking Pedro and Pharrell for the past few hours via his cell phone and a Nanny Cam he had planted. Pedro had a huge midterm on Monday and Pharrell had stayed in to help him. Sebastien had successfully convinced them both that there was a serial killer in their townhouse for the past three hours. It was fantastic.

 

He parked his bike in the back and paid his $5. The lobby was crowded, co-eds abound. He pushed is way into the grand old theater, a true movie palace, and hunted his friends down. The place was packed but he spotted them right in the middle, a few seats magically left next to them. Guy-Man made his way through the aisle and collapsed into the plush seat. After giving Chester a hug, he was introduced to Ash, his girlfriend, and his other friend Areli. They chatted as they waited for the show to start.

 

“Hey! Excuse me?” A familiar drawl asked. “Are those two seats taken?” Guy-Man turned to look. There was Julian at the end of the aisle, Coke and candy in hand. And behind him, Thomas. Of course.

 

Guy-Man choked for a moment before replying “No, go ahead.” Thomas smiled as they made their way down the aisle, Julian sitting next to Guy-Man.

 

“Oh damn, I can’t see,” Julian whined. “Thomas, switch with me.” Thomas rolled his eyes and the pair awkwardly maneuvered around and switched seats. Thomas smiled sheepishly as he finally settled in.

 

“Missed you at screening on Wednesday. Everything OK?” Guy-Man hid behind his hair for a moment before replying.

 

“I was just really tired. I had a lot of trouble with the paper.” He blushed furiously, praying Thomas, ahem, his professor, hadn’t read it.

 

“Yeah, I graded it earlier. I could tell.” _Merde._ “You should have come by for office hours.” He added quietly. Guy-Man shrugged. _What was he gonna do? Admit that every time he tried to focus on writing, his dick got other ideas?_ He shook it off.

 

“Well, Tuesday, I want you to come by and we’ll talk about it, OK?” Guy-Man turned to face him. Thomas always looked hopeful, this irrepressible sense of positivity radiating from him. Guy-Man nodded.

 

“Tuesday.”

 

The lights dimmed and the show started.

 

Thomas had seen Phantom of the Paradise more times than he could remember. A couple times with Julian even. But nothing was more exciting than watching Guy-Man watching the film. Every expression – laughter, confusion, excitement – each was magical. A part of him just wanted to watch him and only him, his soft yet strong features telling a new story unlike the one he had seen so many times before. But he kept his ogling to a near minimum thanks in part to Julian’s very loud coughs. Bastard.

 

The credits rolled and the lights came up, the crowd hooting and applauding. Guy-Man was grinning from ear to ear, laughing with Chester and the girls. Julian nudged Thomas and mouthed Talk to him! He turned and Guy-Man was facing him, eyes bright.

 

“Now that was excellent.” Thomas grinned.

 

“You’ve never seen Phantom of the Paradise?”

 

“No. And I have no idea why. The music was amazing!”

 

“Oh it’s one of my favorite soundtracks. I’ll lend you a copy.” Guy-Man tried to hide in his hair as he blushed. “Hey, do you wanna…”

 

“Guy-Man, we’re gonna head over to the bar around the corner, you coming?” Chester asked, his arm thrown across Ash.

 

“Uh, yeah.” They both got up and together they all headed into the lobby. Thomas scanned the crowd in search of Julian since they had ridden together in Julian’s dinky two-door compact but alas he didn’t see him anywhere. He called him but it went straight to voicemail. _Damnit Julian… Up to his games again._

 

“Need a lift home?” Guy-Man asked. Thomas sighed.

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Guy-Man half-smiled.

 

“Come on, I got my bike.” Guy-Man quickly apologized to Chester – “I’ll see you guys there in 20.” – and headed outside with Thomas.

 

As they donned their helmets, Guy-Man realized something.

 

“Do you mind if we stop by my apartment first? It’s on the way. I still have your copy of Citizen Kane.” He thanked God his helmet was covering most of his face.

 

“Sure, no problem.” Thomas smiled shyly and they hopped on the bike before gliding into the night.

 

Thomas let himself melt against Guy-Man. He hated himself for it but there was no denying it any longer: he was attracted. As they rode through the dark, headlights occasionally glittering along Guy-Man’s helmet, Thomas tried to reason with himself. He’s your student, Thomas. Your student! You cannot do this. Even friendship is a slippery slope. You need to stop before you go too far.

 

They arrived in front of Guy-Man’s apartment way too soon, the cutting of the engine and the lean as Guy-Man parked shaking him from his thoughts.

 

“You can come in if you like.” Thomas knew he shouldn’t but he followed anyways, leaving the helmet on the bike.

 

The apartment was spacious. More spacious than Thomas’. Thomas took a moment to explore the living room while Guy-Man slipped into what Thomas assumed to be his bedroom. Sebastien had left, leaving the two of them alone in the apartment. As Guy-Man hunted down the case, he knew this was the perfect opportunity. But as much as people wanted to label him the bad boy, Guy-Man was really quite shy. He hadn’t had many boyfriends. Two. Well, one really and even that was questionable. Yes, Thomas was a bit of a nerd and kind of awkward but he was also handsome and mature and his teacher. His teacher. But he couldn’t ignore the ache inside. He had to do something about it.

 

Thomas sat down on the couch and flipped through a book sitting on the coffee table. He tried to read but all he could think about was that person in the other room. He wanted to make a move, to do something about the way he felt but he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. He settled into the seat and something jabbed him in the back. He pulled out his worn DVD case from between the cushions. He popped up and walked to the bedroom just as Guy-Man hustled out of the room. Crash. Right into each other, the DVD and the case falling a few feet away from their tangled limbs. They both laughed, quiet and nervous, their faces so close. The laughter died down and the energy shifted, the reflected lust tense in the air.

 

“Guy-Ma…” Guy-Man took the leap of faith, pushing his face up and kissing Thomas ever so softly. He pulled back after a moment, eyes wide and completely vulnerable. He couldn’t resist. He leaned down and kissed Guy-Man back, gentle and slow, a little scared. Guy-Man ran his fingers through Thomas’ curls, adding a little more pressure, reassuring him that he wanted this, that he wanted this more than Thomas knew. Thomas sighed and kissed him harder, pressing Guy-Man onto the floor as his hands ran up his sides. He deepened the kiss, their tongues hesitantly exploring one another as they lie there on the floor.

 

Thomas broke the kiss and examined Guy-Man. His long hair was fanned out beneath him, his eyelids heavy and his lips parted, a light flush across his face. As if he couldn’t get anymore gorgeous.

 

“We shouldn’t do this.”

 

“I know.”

 

There was a moment. The moment. All he needed to do was get up and walk out that door. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead he pulled Guy-Man up and kissed him again, rough and passionate. They scrambled to their feet and Guy-Man guided them into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them.


	8. Feedback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long. I got a nasty case of writer's block trying to figure out where to go next. Thank you for your patience and encouragement and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

They stumbled onto Guy-Man’s bed, jeans trapped around ankles and shirts half-removed. They both blushed furiously as they tried to undress as quickly as possible, both of them a mad rush of limbs and fabric. Guy-Man pulled Thomas’ shirt off, the neck getting caught behind his plume of curls. Thomas smiled shyly before brushing a hand through Guy-Man’s hair and pressing him back onto the mattress.

 

Stripped down to their underwear – Guy-Man in his tight black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, Thomas in threadbare grey briefs – they let their frantic pace slow down. They kissed slow, exploring one another’s lips and mouths as their hands roamed across each other’s skin. Thomas gently kissed Guy-Man’s neck, brushing his lips against his warm skin. He made his way down his neck and across his chest, nosing at the light dusting of hair and laving his nipples until they peaked. Guy-Man watched it all, his blue eyes dark and half open.  Thomas kissed and nipped at the soft curve of his stomach as his fingers hooked into the band of Guy-Man’s underwear. He knelt up and pulled them down, tossing them aside. He stroked up Guy-Man’s thighs slow, his hands moving higher and higher until he hooked his hands under Guy-Man’s armpits and pulled him up. He buried his hands in Guy-Man’s hair as he kissed him once again.

 

Guy-Man bit at Thomas’ bottom lip before swinging around and hopping off the bed. He pulled Thomas’ legs, moving him closer to the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees and quickly pulled off his briefs. Thomas sat up and stroked his hair. Guy-Man looked up at him, his blue eyes wide and innocent. Thomas ran his thumb along his lips. _Beautiful._ Guy-Man bit his thumb, his eyes smirking and he stroked Thomas’ cock with a firm grip. Thomas’ breath caught in his throat. He wanted to close his eyes but he was lost in Guy-Man’s gaze as he continued stroke him at an achingly slow pace. Thomas pet his jaw as he enjoyed the warmth of his hand, longing for the wet warmth of his mouth. As if he was reading his mind, Guy-Man licked his lips. Thomas choked a laugh, his hand drifting back into Guy-Man’s hair.

 

Satisfied with his teasing, Guy-Man licked his cock, taking in the head slow. Thomas’ eyes fluttered shut as he groaned low. He lowered himself little by little, savoring the moment that he had only imagined. His imagination didn’t do it justice. He stroked at Thomas’ hip, urging himself as low as he could. Thomas moaned softly, afraid to relax into the sensation. Guy-Man firmed his grip on Thomas’ hip, pacing himself quicker, his tongue licking broad strokes. He didn’t think it would feel right – going down on his professor in his messy bedroom – but it was perfect. He didn’t want to be anywhere else but in this moment, on his knees, this gorgeous man’s equally gorgeous cock in his mouth. He looked up and Thomas still had his eyes closed, his cheeks a hot red, his lips wet and parted as his moans became sharp and rhythmic.

 

Guy-Man eased up. He didn’t want to be a tease but he also didn’t want him to finish so quickly. He buried his face in Thomas’ thick curls and clawed at his hip. Thomas’ breath evened, his hand petting Guy-Man’s scalp gently before slipping down to his jaw and tilting his head up. Guy-Man was all dark eyes and a soft blush. His lips were wet, pink and a little swollen. He looked a little shy but desire – tightly coiled desire – was barely contained in his eyes. Thomas smiled and laid back. Guy-Man took the signal and crawled up, lying on top of Thomas as he kissed him.  Thomas rolled them over, holding Guy-Man down as he worked a hand between them. He gripped Guy-Man’s aching dick and stroked him.

 

Guy-Man quickly succumbed to his base instincts; his soft kisses giving way to nips and then bites. Guy-Man tugged Thomas by his curls, exposing his neck. He kissed and sucked on his neck as Thomas stroked him faster, soft grunts punctuating the air. Thomas guided Guy-Man’s face back to his, kissing him roughly. Guy-Man whined, his body tensing, and he came, a deep flush running the length of his body. Thomas leaned back on his heels and took in the sight of debauched Guy-Man, licking his come of his hand. Guy-Man writhed for a moment, still drunk on his orgasm, before blinking up at Thomas. Thomas stroked himself, his lean body coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his curls damp.

 

Guy-Man started to shift up but Thomas merely shook his head.  Instead, he shifted up the bed, still straddling Guy-Man, until his cock was merely inches from Guy-Man’s mouth. Thomas cradled Guy-Man’s head, offering his cock to Guy-Man’s swollen lips. Guy-Man looked up at Thomas, looked up at his gaping lips and hooded eyes, and smirked, taking as much of his cock as he could in one go. Thomas’ grip in his hair tightened, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Guy-Man could help but smile around his cock, willing his throat to take in just a little more. Thomas pulled back and gently thrust into Guy-Man’s mouth. He watched him carefully, making sure he didn’t choke him. Guy-Man merely moaned, the warm vibration causing Thomas to snap his hips forward. Guy-Man grabbed at Thomas’ ass, urging him to thrust faster. Thomas followed his lead, quicker but still cautious, massaging Guy-Man’s scalp. Guy-Man clawed at Thomas’ ass in response, his tight moans lost on Thomas’ cock. He felt completely blanketed by Thomas: his cock in his mouth, his legs bracketing his torso, his hands his hair, the scent of him, the salt of his skin. He could feel his cock stirring, still too sensitive for him to get hard again. He ran his short nails against Thomas’ skin, desperate. He looked up and Thomas was lost, his head tilted back and lips parted, a long unbroken moan escaping. Guy-Man caressed his ass, sliding a finger to his perineum and petting in softly. That was the final straw. Thomas pulled Guy-Man’s hair taunt as he came hard. Guy-Man hungrily swallowed it all down before lying back and licking at the corners of his lips. Thomas fell on his side, still winded. He let his breathing even before curling up against Guy-Man and spooning him. He draped an arm over Guy-Man’s hip, pressed his lips to the nape of his neck, and relaxed into a deep sleep.

 

***

 

Guy-Man woke to a knocking on his door. He sluggishly rolled over, reaching for his companion only to find his sheets cold. He looked over. No one.  He lifted himself up and examined the room. The sheets had been neatly tucked around him, his clothes still scattered across the room, but not a sign that Thomas had been there. He couldn’t help but be disappointed. He pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped himself up as he headed to the door.

 

“God, you sleep like the dead, Guy-Man.” Sebastien was chipper, coffee in hand. “Did you… You got laid!”

 

“What? _Non_.”

 

“Fuck you, you got laid. Nice! It’s about time.”

 

“Shut up.” Guy-Man pushed past Sebastien and headed into the kitchen.

 

“Why so coy, _mon petit_?” Guy-Man just replied with his most withering of looks. “That bad?”

 

“ _Merde_. Just fuck off.”

 

“Damn, must have been good then.” Guy-Man rolled his eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to the couch. He set his feet on the coffee table, heels landing on top of a DVD. He set down his coffee and picked it up.

 

Citizen Kane.

 

He smiled to himself.

 

“ _Putain_ , I want all the dirty details!”

 

“Fuck off!”

 

***

 

A little part of Thomas wanted to panic.

 

Ok, a large part of Thomas wanted to panic.

 

He sat on his couch mentally cataloging all of the reasons why what he did was wrong.

 

He’s my student. He’s a student. It’s my responsibility to educate him, not fool around. He’s too young. I could lose my job.

 

But no matter what his thoughts always came back to earlier that morning. Waking up beside him, warm and comfortable. The unconscious smile that crept up Guy-Man’s lips when he stroked his hip. The way his hair fanned out beneath him. How serene he looked lying there. It wasn’t just the amazing sex – and they hadn’t even fucked – there was more to him that he wanted to explore. It wasn’t a passing fancy or a quick fuck, he wanted more.

 

Oh God, he wanted more.

 

***

 

Campus was finally cooling down into autumn. The leaves were turning and the wind had picked up making Guy-Man’s walk across the quad brisk. He pulled at the sleeves of his silver-grey sweatshirt as the wind kicked up another notch. He walked quicker.

 

He wasn’t surprised to be the only person in the classroom. He had actually gotten up at seven AM, a nervous ball stuck in the pit of his stomach in anticipation of his only class for the day. He resisted the temptation to walk to his office. Not that it took much resistance. He was equally terrified and desperate to see Thomas again. He kept replaying Saturday night over and over in his mind but then remembering Sunday morning and his disappointment.

 

Luckily he wasn’t alone for long. A pair of his classmates walked into the class engrossed in conversation. The class quickly filled up after that, everyone settled in on time. Well, everyone except their professor.

 

Thomas rushed in five minutes late. He was flushed and a little flustered, a blue scarf artfully draped around his neck. He seemed to be all business as he cracked open his laptop and started the lecture.

 

“So as we ended with last week, the end of World War II marked the decline of the film industry.  With the rise of suburban living, young families didn’t want to make the long trip into the city center to watch a film. Partnered with the introduction of the television, the film industry went from 80 to 90 million people attending the theater a week in 1946 to a 74 percent plunge in ticket sales in the following ten years.

 

“That is not to say that people didn’t go to the cinema. When c-couples would go to the cinema they were a lot more selective. This meant that Hollywood studios had to find new ways to get people to the theater, to feed into their selectivity. And that is what we will be focusing on this week. Today we will start with an old favorite with a new twist: the melodrama.”

 

One of the guys in the class groaned.

 

“Yes, while some people thought that the melodrama was a ‘woman’s picture’, many of the melodramas made were not the zero content romantic comedies you see today. These were films that dealt with social issues and constructs underneath them. Let’s start by watching a clip from Imitation of Life.”

 

Thomas cued up the clip and stood back in the corner, leaving his usual seat next to Guy-Man empty for the remainder of class.

 

***

 

“How was class?” Julian was splayed across his seat in the coffee shop, his leather jacket crushed underneath him.

 

“I was on my feet the entire time.”

 

“So you mean to say that you were too fucking scared to talk to him?” Julian sipped his chai latte. Thomas sighed.

 

“I was focused on my lecture.”

 

“Bullshit. You were focused on trying not to pop a boner in front of the kids.” A pack of sorority girls at a nearby table looked over in disgust.

 

“Look, the classroom is not the place…”

 

“You’re right, the classroom is not the place, but you have to go about business as usual. Otherwise it’s awkward for everyone. “ Julian kept his voice low. “You need to talk to him.”

 

Thomas made a face.

 

“You need to talk to him. Because this whole sneaking out in the early morning is only cute the first time you do it. And clearly this is going to be a regular thing, right?”

 

“We absolutely should not be talking about this here.”

 

“Just answer the question.”

 

Thomas paused, playing with the rim of his mug.

 

“It shouldn’t be a regular thing.”

 

“Shouldn’t and aren’t are very different things.” Julian sat back and took another sip of his coffee. “I’m just saying, you like him, he likes you. You should see where it goes. I’m not saying flaunt it in front of the faculty but you’re both consenting adults and in what, six weeks times he’ll no longer be your student.”

 

Thomas was unconvinced.

 

“Look, when was the last time you even went on a date? God, when was the last time you got laid? It wasn’t that time that I was drunk and tried to suck your dick? Which I don’t know if I said this recently but I’m really sorry about that and will not try it again.”

 

“Shut up.” Thomas rolled his eyes and smiled at the memory. Thank God Julian had cut back on the drinking.

 

“Speaking of six weeks, don’t you have a proposal due?” Thomas hung in head in his hands.

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

“What?” Julian looked over, concerned.

 

“I just… I don’t know. I feel kinda stuck.” Thomas took a long swig from his cappuccino.

 

“You? Stuck? Now I know you’re full of shit.”

 

Thomas gave him the finger.

 

“Just get it done. It’s the first stage. The real thing is always different from the proposal.”

 

Thomas sighed again. Julian was right, he just needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get it done. In all areas of his life.

 

***

 

Thomas sat in his office plugging away at his proposal. He had made some progress between last night and this morning but he was still feeling like it wasn’t quite there, that it just wasn’t…it. He scratched at his neck, his decades old turtleneck sweater a little tight.  He frowned and started typing again, so in the zone that he missed the tentative knocking at his door.

 

It had taken Guy-Man two hours to drum up the courage to hop on his bike and make the trek to Thomas’ office. He had said that he wanted him to come by for office hours so he may as well show up. But as he stood in the hallway watching Thomas, his frustrations with whatever he was working on rattling his last nerve, he was suddenly shy. He tried knocking a little louder. Thomas jolted and looked at the door.

 

“Oh, Guy-Man. Come in.”

 

 _Play it cool, Guy-Man, play it cool._ Guy-Man walked in and settled into the empty seat across from Thomas.

 

“What brings you by?”

 

“You wanted to talk about my essay?” _Merde, I forgot._ Thomas nodded, embarrassed.

 

“Yes, your essay.  You brought it with you?” Guy-Man pulled out the essay from his binder and passed it over.

 

“Ah yes.” Thomas shifted into teaching mode, shaking off his nerves. “It wasn’t that it was a bad essay. It just was a little all over the place. It needed focus. You ended up talking about five different things with pretty much five different topics. Instead, you just needed to tie all five things under one unified theme, was the media’s fixation his downfall or his hubris.” He started pointing and reading, guiding Guy-Man through the paper, having him write down a basic outline. In 45 minutes, they had an A plus outline. Thomas couldn’t help but smile.

 

“See, you got it.” Thomas was proud. Guy-Man just smiled in response. They took  a moment and just stared at one another. Thomas felt that familiar fondness, that longing for more flare up again.

 

Guy-Man was the first to break, looking down at his knapsack and hunting around. He pulled out Thomas’ copy of Citizen Kane.

 

“You forgot this.” He handed it to Thomas.

 

“T-thanks.” He played with the worn corner of the case. “Look, Guy-Man about the other night…” He started but he didn’t have the heart to finish the thought. It was a lie anyways. He sat there trying to figure out what to say next.

 

“Thomas?” Guy-Man’s voice was soft, just bumping Thomas back into the present. He looked at Guy-Man, his brown hair soft around his face, his blue eyes a little guarded.

 

“Do you wanna have dinner at my apartment tomorrow night?”

 

***

 

“No texts or calls?” Chester had a big fat smile on his face. “Tell me it was the best sex of your life.”

 

“What makes you think we…uh…”

 

“Oh please. Guy-Man, let me lend you my CD! Oh Guy-Man my friend bailed! And the way he looked at you during the movie?”

 

“What do you mean during the movie?” Chester glared at him.

 

“Are you shitting me? You’re kidding right? Right?” Guy-Man shrugged. “Oh my God, Guy-Man, hello, that dude was so into you I’m pretty sure the whole theater knew. You’re not telling me you just dropped him off and then took a nap?”

 

Guy-Man blushed.

 

“So, best sex of your life? Because from the look in dude’s eye I could see him worshipping your cock for the rest of eternity.”

 

“Jesus Christ...” Guy-Man couldn’t help but smile though.

 

“Guess the feeling is mutual.” Chester smirked and turned to his canvas.

 

***

 

Wednesday’s class squeezed together epics and musicals so the screening was a little long: Singin’ in the Rain and Ben-Hur. Thomas had predicted that they would lose most of the audience after Singin’ in the Rain but to his amazement they held on to majority of the students into the second half of the screening. Julian knocked out part of the way through Ben-Hur, which was unsurprising since the film was over three hours long. This allowed him to look over at Guy-Man without fear of teasing. He had his hair tied back in a half bun, his features eclipsed by the light from the screen. He’d be lying if he didn’t hope that something…intimate would happen later but even if it ended up with the two of them just sharing a drink for a few moments, he would still be pleased. He had forgotten how long the films were running so at this rate he doubted that Guy-Man would want to come over. He held out hope.

 

Guy-Man wished he had sat farther back so he could have a clear view of Thomas. Instead he tried catching him in his periphery. He could see him nervously jiggling his leg. He couldn’t help but smile. Not too much longer. Not too much longer.

 

The film ended and the lights came up, shocking Julian into wakefulness. Thomas headed towards the front of the room to answer any questions. Most everyone headed out quickly, one or two students coming up to chat with Thomas. Julian lingered by the doorway. Guy-Man stayed back, pulling out his cell phone and tapping out a text.

 

Thomas’ phone buzzed. He quickly gazed at it while listening to Holly’s theories on the chariot race in Ben-Hur. _Meet at your place?_ He quickly typed out a response. _Perfect._

 

Guy-Man looked down at Thomas when he got the text and smiled, making his way past Julian.

 

“Have a good night, kid.” Julian called after him, amusement thick in his voice.

 

***

 

Guy-Man parked his bike around the block. He sat there chain smoking. He had dressed up a little. Leather jacket, nice jeans, his favorite pair of studded motorcycle boots. He wanted to make a good impression. _He’s already made you come, what more do you think you need to do?_ He shook his head at his thoughts and brought the cigarette back to his lips. He pulled out his phone. New message.

 

_Just got back. Come on up._

 

He smiled and stubbed out the cigarette. As he walked up he wanted to imagine that he was getting more confident when in fact he had no idea what was going to happen. A part of him wanted to think that they could maybe try but the other part of him knew that that was just a fantasy. That they would maybe fuck around again and then Thomas would dismiss him, citing inappropriate relations. But what Chester said resonated with him. It made him think maybe he had a chance.

 

Guy-Man climbed the stairs up to Thomas’ third floor apartment and found the door open. It smelled delicious. Thomas was in the kitchen unboxing some Indian food, a bottle of wine already open and waiting on the counter.

 

“Guy-Man, hey! Sorry, I forgot it was gonna be such a long screening. I got food.”

 

Thomas grabbed plates and silverware while Guy-Man poured them both glasses of wine. They settled on the couch – Thomas didn’t have a dining room table – and ate heartily. They slowly eased into one another’s company, first chatting about the movies then into other easy things: missing France, school, food. They washed the dishes together and settled back on the couch with more wine, letting a light buzz wash over them and they sat a little closer.

 

Soon they were no longer using words, their bodies guiding them together as they kissed slowly. Guy-Man unwrapped the scarf from around Thomas’ neck revealing dark hickeys all over his neck.

 

“Merde. So that’s why you’ve been wearing all of that.” Thomas blushed and Guy-Man smiled. He swore to himself not to get so…enthusiastic. Guy-Man kissed him again, his hand ghosting over Thomas’ neck, his thumb brushing ever so slightly against the mottled skin.

 

“Come, let’s go to bed.” Thomas stood and extended his hand. Guy-Man raised an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, we won’t be sleeping anytime soon.”

 

Guy-Man smirked and took his hand. Thomas led him into his bedroom. Unlike his living room, Thomas’ bedroom was bare. There was nothing on the walls, just light colored paint. The room was dominated by a large bed and some basic furniture, a chest of drawers and a nightstand. It was more like a hotel than a bedroom, clean and sterile. Not that it mattered at the moment. Guy-Man was distracted as Thomas peeled off his leather jacket, bringing their lips together once again. They slowly undressed each other, appreciating the reveal of each patch of bare skin. There was no rush, no overwhelming need to move fast, just the slow burn of desire, a longing to make each moment linger and last.

 

They moved perfectly against one another as if they already understood their bodies as unified unit. Thomas slipped off his underwear and sat on the bed, beckoning Guy-Man to sit in his lap. Guy-Man came to him, bracketing Thomas’ legs as he sat down. Their cocks brushed together making them moan into one another’s mouths as they kissed, wet and slow. Thomas held him close as Guy-Man ground against him. They stared at each other as they figured out a smooth pace, rutting against each other intently. Guy-Man pushed Thomas back, forcing him to lie down as he kissed his chest. He licked and nibbled on his nipples, the flesh turning a deep red. He shifted back, kissing low before taking his cock in his mouth. Thomas moaned low as Guy-Man suckled the head, licking at his slit. Guy-Man looked up at Thomas. With his hair pulled back Thomas had a clear view of his blue eyes, the color clouded by the orange glow of the streetlights through his gauzy curtains. He brought a hand to Guy-Man’s face, his thumb brushing against his lips wet and tight around his cock. Guy-Man closed his eyes and hummed, so content. He started moving again, bobbing his head a little further down each time, getting his cock nice and wet.

 

Guy-Man pulled off, laying a soft kiss to Thomas’s thigh before shifting up to kiss him on the lips. Thomas scooted over to his nightstand and grabbed lube and a condom. He laid them on the bed and pressed Guy-Man into the mattress, kissing him thoroughly before making his way down to his cock. He sucked Guy-Man’s cock with care, feeling for every sensation, every moan, every squirm, and cataloging it in his mind. His soft moans encouraged Thomas, making him hum around his cock happily. Soon the moans became broken pleas.

 

“Thomas… Please…. Fuck me… I need you inside of me…”

 

Thomas pulled off his cock, replacing his mouth with his hand. He stroked him as he moved lower, licking Guy-Man slowly. Guy-Man flinched, moaning loud as Thomas licked his hole slowly, getting him nice and wet. Guy-Man grabbed the lube and passed it to Thomas. He squirted a little in his palm and rubbed his hands together to warm it before circling Guy-Man’s hole with a single finger. Thomas sank the finger in slowly, Guy-Man crying out and clawing at Thomas’ hair. Thomas was gentle, taking his cock back in his mouth as he fingered him slowly, only adding another finger when he felt Guy-Man relax. He lazily fingered him for a while, enjoying the variety of sounds he made.

 

“Oh God, please, I’m ready. Thomas, I’m ready.” Guy-Man passed him the condom and he slipped it on quickly. He slowly sank into Guy-Man. He grunted; Guy-Man was still a little tight. Guy-Man’s body was taunt as he babbled in French, clutching at the sheets. Thomas leaned down and kissed him quiet. He brought a hand to his hand and pulled out his hair tie easily, running his fingers through his hair as he bottomed out. They stayed still for a moment, readjusting. Guy-Man was blissful as he kissed Thomas fiercely, snapping his hips slightly. Thomas took the hint and began carefully thrusting, running his hands all over Guy-Man before bringing them to his hips. They set a relaxed pace, no rush, just the press of Thomas’ cock deep inside Guy-Man. Guy-Man was enamored. Thomas was so sexy with his chest hair and parted lips and light stubble. He let himself slip away, the world going out of focus as he surrendered to sensation. Sweat, touch, press, burn. A grunt, a moan, a whisper. Thomas thrust faster, pushing in close as he too succumbed to the feeling, losing his rhythm as he climaxed, pressing in tight as he came. He gently pulled out  and sucked Guy-Man’s cock until he came, his hands buried in Thomas’ hair.

 

Thomas binned the condom, shifted up and laid down next to Guy-Man. He knew he should get up and shower but he didn’t want to leave Guy-Man’s side. Guy-Man rolled over and looked at Thomas. _God, how did I get so lucky?_  There he was, in all his optimism and hope, unguarded. Guy-Man leaned over and kissed him ever so softly. Thomas pulled him close and with their arms around each other, they fell asleep, finally content.


	9. Study Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna dedicate this chapter to a couple folks.
> 
> First, to Laryta, thehouseholdcat and Amber for your love and support. I feel blessed to have made something that you've enjoyed and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> And second to carboniccassiopeia and Mantra for your support throughout the livestream. Thanks for being awesome possums.
> 
> To everyone who's stuck around, thanks and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Guy-Man woke suddenly, the force of his dream snapping him back into reality. He remembered flashes of silver and gold, metal and wires. He felt the sudden urge to draw, not wanting to lose the vision in his mind. He carefully detangled himself from Thomas – the man was all limbs tied to Guy-Man – and reached for the pile of paper and index cards on the nightstand. He filed through the mess, trying to find a clean sheet. Nothing. He read one of the index cards.

 

_2S - Week 7 – ‘The Director’s Mixtape’ – contemporary music in Garden State and (500) Days of Summer_

 

He cocked his head and picked up another.

 

_1S – Week 4 – ‘I Could Have Danced All Night’ – orchestral music in classic melodrama_

 

He frowned. 1S? 2S? He flipped through a few more cards before it became clear: he was looking at the beginnings of a new course that Thomas was planning. He was intrigued. He picked up a larger sheet of paper covered in Thomas’ messy handwriting. It was a course about music in film, a two-part course covering nearly the entire history of film. It was ambitious to say the very least. He kept reading, enchanted by the countless ideas Thomas had for his class. Some were fascinating, others a little off the deep end, but all of it an interesting insight into his mind.

 

Thomas woke up to the sunlight blinding his eyes. He rolled over, trying to avoid it and was instead met by a very focused Guy-Man reading his course notes. He watched him for a moment, his soft hair warm with the sunlight, his lips perched into a smile. He couldn’t help but think that this was a sight he could get used to. He cleared his throat and Guy-Man tensed. Thomas just smiled a lazy smile and sat up, glancing down at the notes in Guy-Man’s hands. Guy-Man looked apologetic, a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

“Sorry, I was just…”

 

“It’s OK.” Guy-Man eased.

 

“So you’re going to be teaching a new class?”

 

“Proposing. I have to have my proposal done by tomorrow and I…”

 

Guy-Man could see the frustration seeping into his features.

 

“I’ve been kind of stuck.”

 

Guy-Man smiled. He thought of his Citizen Kane paper.

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Well, there’s too much here for any undergrad to take in.”

 

Thomas’ eyes widened.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It’s too much. This is pretty much the entire history of music in film. It looks exhausting for anyone that isn’t working on a graduate degree.”

 

Thomas was taken aback. Guy-Man could sense his guard rising.

 

“It’s not a bad thing. It’s pretty cool. But like you told me, maybe you need to narrow the scope.”

 

Thomas couldn’t help but crack a smile. _God, the student has become the teacher._ Guy-Man flipped through the index cards and pulled out several, spreading them out on the comforter.

 

“These are cool. Rocky Horror. Garden State. Wizard of Oz. You can pull people in with pretty much all of these ideas. Some of these…” Guy-Man laid out a couple more cards, “These might be a little harder for people to understand. It’s too technical.” All of the cards were classes based around recording technology, optical printing, and other equipment-based practices. “You wanna keep it about music. Maybe condense the tech down to one class each semester? I mean, it would be good to know some of the tech, just like our first class with the zoetropes. That was fun.”

 

“You know?” Guy-Man looked over at Thomas, afraid that he had crossed a line. “I think you’re right.” Guy-Man sighed with relief.

 

“OK, what do you think about field trips?”

 

“Who doesn’t like field trips? But you need to think about relevance.”

 

“Relevance?”

 

“I mean, I might not be a department head but I can’t imagine the school happily dropping a ton of cash on a trip to the symphony orchestra for, what was it?” Guy-Man hunted down one of Thomas’ pages as Thomas sat back laughing.

 

A blast of rap music interrupted them both. Guy-Man hopped up, searching for his phone. He quickly found it in his jacket, Collard Greens clearly ringing through the room.

 

“I have to take this.” He answered.

 

“Hello?”

 

Thomas had been on the receiving end of plenty of unpleasant phone calls but this one looked particularly awful. Guy-Man’s features transformed from concerned to downright worried. He didn’t say much, just ‘yes’ and ‘OK’, his shoulders slouched.

 

“1pm OK?” A tinny ‘Yes’ was the response. “OK. See you at 1.” He hung up, a little shell-shocked.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Um… I should go.” Guy-Man got up and started picking up his clothes. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

 

“Let me at least make breakfast?” Guy-Man paused and turned to look at Thomas. _Oh no._ Guy-Man’s cheeks were splotchy, his eyes red and close to tears. Whatever that phone call was about, it was serious.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” A shadow of a smile flickered along the corners of Guy-Man’s lips.

 

“No.” His voice was nearly a whisper. He continued getting dressed in silence, slowly regaining his composure. He could feel Thomas’ gaze on his back and was comforted. _He must think I’m such a child._ He stood and walked to the living room. Thomas followed, throwing on a shirt and his boxers. Guy-Man grabbed his keys and helmet from the coffee table before making his way towards the door.

 

“Guy-Man?”

 

He stopped and turned. Thomas didn’t know what to say. Guy-Man knew what he probably was going to say: don’t tell anyone about this. His face hardened at the thought.

 

“I get it.” He turned back to open the door.

 

“No!” Thomas’ voice nearly cracked. “No.” He walked closer, leaning against the wall next to the door. Guy-Man’s eyes dropped to his hands. They stood there for a moment, Thomas trying to form the words.

 

“I-if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, call me?” Guy-Man bit his lip and looked up. There it was, that open-faced optimism. He didn’t just want to fuck and run. Maybe they could have more.

 

Thomas wished he could do something, anything, to keep him there, to kiss away the pain that was so clear on his face. But they weren’t there yet; still nearly strangers to one another. Instead, he brought a palm to Guy-Man’s face, thumb stroking his cheek before he leaned in and kissed him softly, nothing more than a press of his lips against Guy-Man’s. He pulled back just a little.

 

“Call me. Whenever.” He whispered.

 

“OK.” Guy-Man kissed him once more before slipping away.

 

***

 

It was 12:55pm and Miss Chan was jonesing for a coffee before her next appointment. _I need something a little stronger to deal with this one_ , she thought to herself. She got up and headed to the kitchen before a flash of gold caught her attention. She stopped. There was her 1 ‘o clock, biting at his nails, his helmet at his feet.

 

“Well someone is early for a change.” Guy-Man looked up and smirked, his lips barely hiding the fear in his eyes. Alyssa couldn’t help but sigh.

 

“Head into my office. I’m gonna grab coffee. You want some?”

 

“Sure,” he mumbled. He picked up his helmet and headed down the hall.

 

She returned to the room a few minutes later, setting the coffees down on her desk.

 

“I’m sorry that I had to pull you in like this.”

 

Guy-Man stared at one of the drawings adorning her walls. She knew he was listening nonetheless.

 

“They didn’t really give me much choice.” She watched the tension creep into his cheeks, lines forming around his mouth. She took a sip of her coffee.

 

“So where were you this morning? I expected to get your voicemail.” Guy-Man looked up.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Weren’t you supposed to be in your writing class?”

 

Alyssa took a well-timed sip of coffee.

 

“Well, you’re not known for your consistent attendance so no worries.”

 

Guy-Man rolled his eyes.

 

“Seriously though, your parents have called me twice a week for the past three weeks, Guy-Man. They are not kidding when they say they are going to cut you off. And there is nothing that I can do to stop them. I have given them every excuse that I can think of. You need to help me here.”

 

Guy-Man sighed. Dealing with his parents had never been his strong suit. They were your typical pair of wealthy, overworked people: too much work and hobnobbing, not enough time with their kid to know what was really happening. Instead of family dinners and vacations, it was nannies and boarding schools. It was a cliché and he knew it but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. He knew he shouldn’t care about what they thought but since they were the one holding the purse strings, he couldn’t escape them.

 

“Look, I know that I cannot begin to understand what’s going on between you guys but you need to talk to them. Or at least don’t give them reason to worry.”

 

Guy-Man looked up at her. She was the picture of friendly concern, her red glasses clutching the tip of her nose.

 

“Ok, here’s the deal. You know I don’t want you declaring out of pressure but you need to come up with something. Come up with at least three options. Three. And next week we’ll meet and try and come figure out what will work. How does that sound?”

 

Guy-Man sighed, slouching deeper into his chair.

 

“I know. Believe me, I know.” She took another swig of coffee.

 

***

 

“This looks great!” Julian exclaimed, crumbs of toast flying out of his mouth as he looked over Thomas’ revised notes. Julian sat on Thomas’ couch surrounded by paper as Thomas made them dinner: hamburgers, no fries.

 

“And you’re telling me the kid helped you?” Thomas rolled his eyes as he flipped the patties in the frying pan. After Guy-Man left, he spent the rest of the day working from his critique, cutting away the overly technical, trying to think like an undergrad instead of a professor, making the process fun again. He watched clips and went over his graduate notes, constantly tweaking and fine-tuning.

 

But as much as he dove into the world of his work, he couldn’t help but think of Guy-Man’s face after that phone call. He knew that they weren’t close enough for him to share such intimate details of his life but it didn’t deter from the fact that he wanted to know what happened.

 

“So Thomas,” Thomas snapped back to attention, flipping the patties once more before sliding them onto a nearby plate. “This looks good. Really good. So wanna play it out?”

 

“Huh?” Thomas set out the condiments and buns along the counter as Julian approached.

 

“You be you and I’ll be the lovely Professor Kennedy. Practice what you’re gonna say.” Julian quickly made himself a cheeseburger, taking a large bite as he headed back to the couch.

 

“So, Professor Bangalter, I love this proposal. Can you explain to me how it would serve the department?” Julian crossed his legs and straightened his back, ever the preening peacock of a department head.

 

“Ok, she doesn’t even sit like that. You know that.”

 

“Ugh, it’s just a role play, you idiot.” Julian drawled, rolling his head in mock annoyance. “Indulge me, please?”

 

“Fine. Well, as you mentioned before, the department hasn’t had a music-focused class in some time.  I think that film programs often want to focus just on musicals or more classical films and their use of music. With my specialty being in 1970’s music and film, I want to give students insight to film music in a different sense, in a more modern sense. Think of it as showing the bigger picture.”

 

***

 

“Fantastic. You’re so right, we often don’t hear about modern music and its usage in film outside of Tarantino and Pulp Fiction.” Professor Kennedy smiled brightly. “Looking over this, it seems like both a major and a non-major could enjoy the class.”

 

“A-absolutely. As you mentioned Tarantino, I think that a lot of students find themselves attracted to soundtracks. Inception, Amelie, Donnie Darko, students love these films and they really love their soundtracks. So yes, you’d get majors but I think you’d get a good cross-section of students from the campus at large. I think it would make for a wonderful multi-disciplined discussion.”

 

“Excellent. Well I think I’ve heard everything I need to hear. I’m looking forward to presenting this to the committee. Thank you so much, Thomas.”

 

“Thank you, Professor.” Professor Kennedy rose and walked him out.

 

“We’ll let you know.” She winked. Thomas grinned.

 

“Thank you.” He shut the door behind him and headed back to his office.

 

***

 

Guy-Man had planned to go out riding but that held little appeal to him. He planned on hanging out with Sebastien but he couldn’t bear to answer any questions. Every time he tried to drum up the energy to do something, he immediately knocked it down, his melancholy getting the better of him.

 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about declaring a major. The only problem was that he knew the consequences of his decision. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to form the words that could soften the blow. Or maybe trying to find an alternative that could get him out of this mess. It all ended as a whole lot of nothing, his anxiety levels creeping that much higher.

 

He rolled over and stared at the curtained window, the glow of orange taking him back to Thomas’ bedroom. He closed his eyes and he could feel their bodies pressed together. He could feel the brush of his stubble against his skin. He could hear his voice, taste his lips, smell his skin. He wanted him there, now. He reached out behind him, his hand eventually brushing against his iPhone. He flipped over, the glow illuminating his face as he hunted through his contacts.

 

Thomas Bangalter.

 

All he had to do was hit his name. But instead he was frozen.

 

_Just press it._

_Just press it._

_Why can’t you just press it?_

 

He closed his eyes. And hit send.

 

“’Allo?”

 

“Hey.”

 

He felt better already.


	10. Class Presentations

Halloween fever had descended on the Stevenson campus. You couldn’t escape it. The student center, the dining halls, even some of the academic buildings. Sebastien had decorated the living room with spider webs, tiny carved pumpkins and most strangely, a large cowhide rug. He claimed it was to acknowledge Samhain, the pagan tradition that preceded Halloween. Guy-Man wanted to remind his dear roommate that last he checked, he was an atheist. It probably had something to do with that hippie-looking girl he had been hanging around for the last few weeks.

 

Guy-Man sat on the couch working on his proposal on synthesizers for his engineering project. Turns out that he had a knack for the complex science of electrical engineering, the mess of technical jargon translating into a visual puzzle in his mind, like a simple line drawing in need of detail. A synthesizer was admittedly more complicated than some of the simpler printed circuit boards they were studying but it was interesting nonetheless.

 

His phone rang for the fifth time. And just like the other four times, he resolutely ignored it. He had hoped that presenting his options for his major – art history, visual art or interdisciplinary studies – would buy him some time with his parents but it turns out it only bought him a week and a half. Truth be told, he didn’t feel any closer to coming up with a solution to his problem.

 

It wasn’t that he wanted to stay in school forever. It wasn’t even that he was indecisive. Maybe it was the expectation. The look Alyssa tried so hard to hide when they talk about declaring. The familiar look of his parents every time they had to fly in for ‘a little chat’ with the headmaster before he found himself shipped off to yet another affluent boarding school. He had learned to play it off, do the minimum to keep them appeased and keep a low profile, the effect only dulling the expectation, not eliminating the fear.

 

So he let it ring, instead burying his head in a schematic of the Moog-Mini synthesizer.

 

***

 

Thomas could easily teach an entire semester about horror film. A fellow classmate of his did that when he was in graduate school, week after week of gory delight.

 

But alas, Thomas only had a week. He sped through the very rich history of horror film in two classes, much to the disappointment of many of his students. Both this week’s lectures as well as last week – they covered New Wave film – were well attended which was a surprise considering that they were well into the semester. _Save the best for last_.

 

Thomas was on cloud nine: the proposal had gone well, so well that at last week’s faculty meeting, he noticed several of the older professors giving him nods of approval. Professor Kennedy had emailed him a couple notes, just a couple tweaks and things to look out for as he prepared for his presentation, but from her bright smile, he felt just a little confident. But his academic life wasn’t the only thing that was thriving. He and Guy-Man were really getting on. They discreetly met up at one another’s apartments nearly every other day. It was unconventional but they made do. Last weekend they cooped up in Thomas’ apartment and watched sci-fi films until they fell asleep.  It was a relationship that felt natural, equal parts attraction and friendship.

 

But it wasn’t perfect. The shadow of that phone call two weeks ago still lingered. He tried to turn a blind eye to it but it was hard when he saw Guy-Man tense every time his cell would vibrate. He didn’t know who or what he was avoiding and he wasn’t brave enough to ask but it didn’t stop him from worrying, from squeezing his hip just a little tighter when they were spooning. _When the time’s right, he’ll tell me._

 

Besides, he had enough on his plate with his presentation on the horizon. A week from today. He sighed as he sat back in his hard chair and poured over his notes once again. _Just one more week._

 

He scanned over his section on movie musicals.

 

_One more week._

 

Movie musicals.

 

_One more week._

 

It took him five minutes before he realized that he was just reading the same section over and over again. He pushed his notes away and pinched the bridge of his nose. _A little break never hurt anyone._

 

***

“So any plans for Halloween?” Chester asked as they walked out of the studio on onto the windy quad.

 

“Not sure yet. I’ll probably end up at The Wail for the costume contest. You?”

 

“They’re showing Rocky Horror at the independent. My girlfriend’s coming down and we’re gonna go in costume. Magenta and Columbia. If you wanna, you should come through. Go to The Wail afterwards?”

 

“I get the feeling my roommate is gonna throw a party, so maybe.”

 

“I could see you doing a wonderful Rocky.”

 

Guy-Man snorted as they kept walking. Halloween had mercifully fallen on a Friday this year so he had the whole of Friday to get his costume together and make plans. _Speaking of plans…_ He pulled out his phone and typed out a text.

 

***

 

“I shouldn’t let you do this, Julian.” Thomas whined. He trailed behind Julian as they wound through the packed thrift store.

 

“We’re a man down and you know all the words!” Julian drawled as he approached yet another rack of pants. “Plus no one is forcing you to do anything.” He turned and gave Thomas his sweetest smile. It somehow looked sinister.

 

“Just the threat of stealing my bike again…”

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t really steal your bike.” Thomas gave him the eye. Julian just smirked.

 

“So did you invite your young lover, my dear cougar?”

 

“Could you not?”

 

“I’m just messing with you. But really, you invite him?”

 

“I don’t think the two of us together in public is the smartest idea.”

 

“True, true.” Julian pulled up a pair of grey slacks and held them up to Thomas. He took them with a little hesitancy. “I mean, he could just sit in the back and admire your sexy acting skills.”

 

“I hate you so much.”

 

“Well I hate that you won’t do as I say but I love you nonetheless. I mean, all I would have had to do was give you that vest of mine.”

 

“Well I am a professor. Only seems right I play the academic.”

 

“The girls and boys will swoon over you in a suit.” Thomas rolled his eyes as Julian moved onto suit jackets and vests.

 

***

 

“I’m surprised you’re home. And alone.” Sebastien walked through the front door carrying a very large case of beer. Pedro trailed behind with a box, its glass contents rattling.

 

“What’s all this?” Guy-Man asked, looking up from his computer. He was trying to figure out a plan for his costume before heading out to buy whatever he needed.

 

“Um, party, drinking, fun?” Sebastien set the case down on the counter and headed back towards the door. “Give us a hand?”

 

“What do you mean, ‘give us a hand?’ I thought it was just gonna be us?” Guy-Man closed his laptop. Pedro and Sebastien shared a look.

 

“Let’s just say it’s not just going to be a silent night.” Sebastien smirked.

 

“ _Putain_ , that’s Christmas,” Pedro shook his head.

 

***

 

Regardless of his terrible pun, Sebastien was right. The apartment was packed with people, booze flowing, music pumping. Everyone was in costume. Sebastien was dressed as Casanova, which wasn’t a stretch. Pedro had gotten his hands on a giant chicken costume; the yellow, feathered head easy to spot since it was a clean foot above everyone else. Pharrell was dressed as post-apocalyptic Hugh Hefner, or at least that’s what Guy-Man and Pedro had decided it was.

 

And then there was Guy-Man.

 

“Are you who I think you are?” Hilary, one of his classmates from his film class, asked.

 

“Yeah.” Hilary doubled over with laughter, nearly dropping her whiskey and coke.

 

“But… Why?”

 

“Because he was the idiot that let his friends pick his costume when they were high.” Pharrell clapped an arm around Guy-Man as he answered. “Personally I think it was an excellent choice. Don’t you agree, Miss Everdeen?”

 

Guy-Man mock scowled as Pharrell patted his long braid. Hilary cracked up all over again.

 

Yes, he had let his friends convince him to dress up as Katniss Everdeen. And not woodland Book One Katniss. Oh no, he was one-piece black bodysuit Quarter Quell Katniss.

 

At this point he was just tipsy enough to be amused again.

 

Hilary clapped him on the shoulder before scooting off to rejoin her friends. Pharrell smiled.

 

“This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a minute. What’s going on?”

 

Guy-Man just mumbled, fidgeting with his bow and quiver.

 

“Fine. The strong and silent thing, huh?” Guy-Man just smiled like a drunk Cheshire Cat. “Well, if you’re not too busy, I was thinking about designing a small line for next semester? I need some illustration help. Interested?”

 

Pharrell was one of the few that knew the depths of Guy-Man’s love for art. In fact, he had called him last week and they met up to talk about the art history major.

 

“What’s the inspiration?”

 

“New England prep meets hip hop meets Japanese pop art.”

 

“That sounds completely insane,” Guy-Man responded, “I love it.”

 

“Right?”

 

“It’s like a country club for millionaires and lost boys.”

 

“A Millionaire Men’s Club!”

 

“Eh…”

 

“Not feeling it?”

 

“Needs work.”

 

Guy-Man’s phone buzzed. Text message. _Thomas?_ Nope, Chester. He sighed and opened it. He and Thomas had been getting their wires crossed all day. Last he heard Thomas had committed to helping Julian at some show and that hopefully he’d see him later.

 

_DUDE. U WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT IS GOING ON RIGHT NOWWWWW_

 

Ring.

 

_LIKE HOLY FUCKIN SHIT GUY MAN U DON’T UNDERSTANDD_

 

Ring.

 

_I AM DYING RIGHT NOW FUCCCCCKKKKKKK_

Ring.

 

Photo attachment.

 

 And then Guy-Man’s jaw hit the floor.

 

***

 

Thomas sat on the grimy floor behind the screen taking a long swig of Jack straight from the bottle. He swallowed it with a grimace and a cough before passing it to Julian.

 

“God, that’s gonna come back and haunt me.” Julian laughed, passing the bottle to Alex. They had just finished acting out Rocky Horror in front of a packed house. Julian as Frank-N-Furter – a glorious, perfect Frank-N-Furter – Alex as Riff Raff, Maeve as Janet and a couple other folks from the Music and Theater Departments filling most of the other roles.

 

When he had arrived Thomas thought he was going to be playing the Criminologist but it turns out they wanted him to play Dr. Scott. So now he was sitting on the floor in a suit from the waist up and black fishnets and black pumps from the waist down. _Thomas, you’re the only one who can fit these shoes! Come on!_ Luckily he got to stay in the wheelchair throughout the entire performance.

 

He stood up, wavering in the tall heels, and made his way to the dressing room. He needed to change and text Guy-Man to see what he was up to. Julian and the rest of the crew stayed back. Julian smirked to himself as he watched Thomas head into the tight room.

 

“Just wait for it…”

 

“JULIAN, WHERE ARE MY PANTS GODDAMNIT!”

 

***

 

“Ok, Katniss, I’m gonna need you to stop shooting arrows into the crowd.” Guy-Man giggled and slid the bow over his shoulders.

 

“Thank you for your consideration.” He slurred, his accent only making the whole thing that much more charming. The crowd ate it up, howling with laughter.

 

He was on the small stage at The Wail for the costume contest. He had some stiff competition from Pedro, a guy dressed as Chewbacca and a very excellent Carmen Sandiego.

 

There were a couple whoops from the crowd and then someone yelled “ONE MORE! YO ONE MORE!” The MC looked out over the crowd.

 

“What’s that? We got one more entry?”

 

“YEAH!” A body pushed through the crowd and then hopped up on stage.

 

Damn.

 

It was Julian. A very, very attractive Julian. His hair was a perfectly tousled mess, his makeup perfectly camp, his lips a wet, glossy red. He wore Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s red corset, his endlessly long legs clad in fishnets. Guy-Man had seen the photo but seeing him in person, it was something else.  Julian hammed it up for the crowd, blowing kisses and coyly playing with his feather boa.

 

“Goddamnit, Jules. Every damn year.” The MC gave Julian a bear hug.

 

“Alright, let’s crown a winner. Give it up for Frank-N-Furter!” The crowd roared. Julian flashed a little ass cheek to rile them up.

 

“Give it up for Chewbacca!” The crowd kept it going.

 

“Katness Everdeen!” Guy-Man whipped his braid around. The crowd screamed themselves into a frenzy. But it wasn’t enough. Turns out they were in love with Carmen Sandiego who walked away with the $500 prize. Guy-Man came in second and pocketed $250.

 

Guy-Man headed to the booths to find his friends but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

 

“Well done, Miss Everdeen.” Guy-Man could feel Thomas’ breath, warm and whisky-laced, against his neck. He couldn’t help but melt.  He spun around and there he was, hair slicked and styled, a pair of round glasses – _not bad_ – suit jacket, shirt and tie – _hell yes_ – and then those fishnets – _oh God..._ It was one thing to see a photo of him kicking one stiletto-clad leg in a wheelchair, another to see him standing in front of him half-naked from the waist down.

 

“I think it’s supposed to be a red tie.” He let the navy silk slide through his hand, his curled fingers brushing against Thomas’ chest. Thomas smirked.

 

“Last minute change. But I think I got the rest of it right.”

 

“Oh yes…”

 

“Dance with me.” Thomas’ voice dropped to a low whisper.

 

“We shouldn’t.”

 

“Fuck it.” Thomas spun Guy-Man around and pressed in close behind him, hips swaying to the beat. The lights got dim as the DJ switched the tempo. The bass bounced through the club. Guy-Man closed his eyes and lost himself to the beat. It was the first time in days that he felt completely at ease, the mix of Thomas’ hands on him and the mellow buzz of alcohol in his bloodstream relaxing him. He turned back to face Thomas, took his face in his hands and kissed him.

 

“Mmm, we shouldn’t.” Thomas whispered as he reluctantly pulled back. He brought a hand to Guy-Man’s chin and smiled. “My place tonight?” Guy-Man smiled in response.

 

“I should go find the guys. Where’s Julian?”

 

“He had his eye on some girl dressed like Beetlejuice,” he said as he gazed over the crowd. Low and behold there he was near the bar aggressively making out with his student to the point that they both stumbled and fell over.

 

“I’m gonna go check on him. Meet you at my place later?” Guy-Man just nodded.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rocky Horror.” Thomas spoke the words into Guy-Man’s hair, his breath warm on his scalp.

 

“It’s OK. I get it.” Guy-Man shifted in closer, his head resting on Thomas’ chest. They had made it back to Thomas’ – separately – and spent the last hour messing around in bed – Thomas wouldn’t forget the image of Guy-Man drunkenly pulling off his stockings with his teeth any time soon – before cuddling quietly, listening to the drunken hollering of _Trick or Treat_ as the coeds shuffled home.

 

“I should have told you.”

 

Guy-Man didn’t have an answer. On the one hand, he had wanted to make plans but on the other he knew that they couldn’t have a relationship out in the open. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. But remembering that didn’t ease the growing knot in his stomach. Instead, he buried it deep and looked up at him.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” He kissed him softly and burrowed his head against Thomas’ neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“That phone call, the one when you ran out of the apartment, what was that about?”

 

Guy-Man sighed quietly.

 

“I just noticed that you try not to look at your phone… D-do you maybe wanna talk about it?”

 

Guy-Man closed his eyes smiled into his skin. He wanted nothing more than to tell him everything, to let the floodgate open. He was so scared that he would judge him. Scared that he would think he was a silly child. But here he was, wanting to help.

 

Thomas’ phone rang from the other room, Careless Whisper, which meant it was Julian.

 

“ _Merde_. What did he do now?” He hopped up and ran to the phone. “’Allo?” He walked back into the room with a frown.

 

“Um, Guy-Man, it’s for you.” He passed him the phone.

 

“’Allo?”

 

“Guy-Man, you need to go home, right now.”

 

“What? What’s wrong? Is Sebastien OK?”

 

“Your parents are waiting for you.”


	11. Tutorial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience. Your kudos and comments and messages are so appreciated. Words cannot express my gratitude to each and every one of you so from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.
> 
> This chapter has been a bit of a struggle but I'm really happy with how it turned out. The end is almost in sight!
> 
> Angst ahead.

He feels like a dead man walking even though he’s just sitting in a hard wooden chair. It’s a scene that is not unfamiliar to him. Rich, wood-paneled hallway, plaques and yellowing photographs lining the walls. The faint echo of high heels on the tile floor. The claustrophobic silence as he waits the verdict on the other side of the heavy door in front of him, the door so thick that he can’t hear the frustrated pleas that he imagines on the other side. In the past, they would emerge with handshakes and tight smiles, their shoulders sagged in relief and their checkbook a little lighter. But this time, like the last time and the time before that, they emerge from the office stone-faced. He swallows hard and rubs at his closely shaved head, his father’s ring dimly glittering. His father walks past him with no acknowledgement. His mother motions for him to follow, bringing an arm around his dashiki clad shoulder as they walk out of the administrative building and back to his dorm room to pack.

 

 Guy-Man is pulled from the memory as he comes up on his street. It’s quiet, the last Halloween stragglers asleep or somewhere else. Guy-Man cuts the engine and prepares himself as he walks past the high-end rental car parked in front of their apartment. _No escape now_.

 

When he enters, his father is standing, eyes on his phone but his mind clearly someplace else. His mother sits on the couch, worry heavy on her brow. His parents. His dear parents.

 

“I’m going to change,” he mumbled as he hurried into his room and shut the door. He peeled off the wetsuit and unbraided his hair quickly, throwing on a t-shirt and sweatpants before heading back into the lion’s den.

 

They were now sitting next to one another at their barely used dining table, the surface still a little sticky from the party earlier. Guy-Man sat across from them trying like hell to steel himself for whatever was to come next.

 

“Guillaume. How are you, my darling?” His mother asked with a faint yet warm smile.

 

“I’m OK. I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting long.” He replied quietly. His father huffed.

 

“You know why we’re here, correct?” His father asked. Guy-Man nodded, his eyes fixed on a dried puddle on the laminate.

 

“You are too old to be playing games, Guillaume. We have gone through too much, worked too hard to have to come here and have this sit down.” Guy-Man could feel his cheeks begin to burn.

 

“Luckily I have business to attend to in New York so the trip was not too much of a hardship,” he continued. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

 

Guy-Man looked up, steel blue meeting steel blue. He saw the weariness of the long flight lining the corners of his father’s eyes, the aggravation visible in the tension around his mouth.

 

“I don’t understand you, son. We have given you everything. Opportunity after opportunity. Chance after chance. The finest education. That motorbike you so desperately wanted. Freedom to study here in America. Is it not enough for you?”

 

Guy-Man thumbs at the table.

 

“Answer me.”

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was raw.

 

“I don’t want your apologies, Guillaume, I want you to take responsibility for your life. It’s as if you think there are no consequences. That this is all some kind of pleasure cruise that never ends. Is that it? Do you think we just keep you occupied for your own good?”

 

“No.”

 

“That’s right. We give you these opportunities because when you leave here you need to be prepared. Ready for the world that you will have to live in. Ready for the challenges and the road ahead. You are not like your classmates. You are not graduating in the unknown. You have a responsibility, an obligation to us, to your name. Do you understand?”

 

Guy-Man looked to his mother. She gazed back at him sadly.

 

“I never asked for it.”

 

“But you saw fit to ask for everything else?” Guy-Man felt the blow in his chest, his heart tightening.

 

“Guillaume, darling, I know that this is difficult to hear. We love you but it is time for you to accept that you have a path that you must take. A path that has been made ready for you by your father and I.” Guy-Man could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

 

“You’ve done well here. Your advisor has told us all about how good your grades are. But she also says that you haven’t been focused.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “You have to focus now. It’s time for you to become the man that you were destined to be.”

 

“But what if it’s not the person I was meant to become?”

 

“And what would you do instead, Guillaume? Tell me that.” His father’s voice was rough with anger. He let go of his mother’s hand and sat back.

 

“I don’t know.” He answered quietly.

 

“Of course you don’t. Art History, Visual Art? These are impractical! You cannot run a company with a degree in art, Guillaume. What do you want to be? A starving artist, living like a bohemian? Or maybe some kind of mechanic, tinkering away at that noisy machine of yours.”

 

“Darling, that is not what he’s saying…”

 

“But it is! He doesn’t appreciate everything that we’ve given him. The sacrifices that you and I have made to make sure that he had the best of everything. The best schooling, the best tutors, the best life that we could give him. And this is how we’re repaid? With this insolence?”

 

Guy-Man bowed his head to hide the tear slipping down his cheek.

 

“You will enter the company after you graduate next year, Guillaume. You will uphold this family’s name and you will be a responsible adult. You are not in boarding school anymore. There is no safety net. This is the rest of your life that you are gambling with and you need to take the reins.”

 

“Your mother and I are heading back to New York for the week to attend to some of our clients. We will be back up and when we return, I expect for you to have a practical major and plan in place. Otherwise, I don’t know if we will be supporting you after this semester.”

 

Guy-Man’s heart dropped.

 

“It’s time to face the facts, son.” His father stood, grabbed his coat and walked out of the apartment. Guy-Man just sat, frozen in place.

 

“Guy-Manuel?” His mother’s voice was soft as she came around and sat next to him. He turned to her before breaking down. She pulled him into an embrace, her arms tight around him, assuring him that she was there. They sat there, mother and son, invisible to the world around them.

 

Guy-Man’s breath evened as he slowly calmed down, his mother rubbing circles into his back, her grip unyielding. It had been so long since he had been comforted by his mother. He had feared that he could no longer turn to her but here she was, arms open.

 

“Your father has always had a flair for the dramatic. A lot like someone I know…” Guy-Man choked out a small laugh.

 

“I’ll never forget Duchamps Academy when you shaved your head. I was grateful you did it because you were in a desperate need of a trim with all that hair down your back.” She smiled, petting his healthy head of hair. She felt him relax, his body sinking into her.

 

“I know that that wasn’t easy to hear but you needed to hear it, my love.” Her voice smooth and healing like honey.

 

“Your father is not always the most understanding but know that he loves you more than you know. We haven’t always been the most attentive, especially after the company went public, but everything that we’ve done is to ensure that your future is bright. That our once tarnished name can shine again.”

 

He lowered his eyes as the weight of her words settled on his shoulders.

 

“But all the money and success means nothing if you’re sitting here broken, my love.”

 

Guy-Man looked up at her, surprised.

 

“You are not your father. Stubborn like him, yes. But you are not him. There is so much potential within you, Guy-Manuel. You soak up the world like a sponge. You seek to understand things with a passion that I don’t think you realize. You can lead this company to new heights. Your father and I both know that.

 

“But you also have to be your own man.”

 

He looked at her again. She smiled her knowing smile, the smile that said _I have the answer but I’m not telling you_ , the smile that assured him that she was on his side.

 

“It’s time for you to become your own man, Guy-Manuel. Your own man.” She kissed his cheek.

 

“I’ll see you in a week.”

 

***

Thomas tried to make the most of his Saturday but his mind kept going back to Guy-Man. Was he OK? What was so serious that he had to rush out of the apartment as if he had seen a ghost? Of course the moment he finally wanted to talk about that first phone call, a second, much more grave one comes to pass. _Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything._

 

He hadn’t heard from him all day, which shouldn’t have surprised him but somehow still did. He thought about working on the proposal but he couldn’t be bothered. He thought about calling up Julian to go out and do something but he didn’t want to it to end up with Julian’s running commentary as he checked his phone incessantly. The man already had too much ammunition on him.

 

Of course he thought about calling Guy-Man to check in but…

 

There really was no but. Just fear. He didn’t want to intrude on something that was clearly serious but at the same time, he needed him to know that he was there, that if he needed, he could carry some of his burden.

 

His phone chirped.

 

_Everything OK?_

It was Julian.

 

_Me? Yeah._

 

_I take it the kid is still MIA?_

 

_Yeah. Btw, what did you say on the phone?_

 

A few moments later Careless Whisper blared from his smartphone.

 

“Hey,” Julian’s sleepy drawl crept through the speaker. “So the kid didn’t say?”

 

“No. He just went white and ran out.”

 

“Shit, that’s crazy. Well, Pharrell called me and told me his parents were at his apartment and that he needed to come back. That was it.”

 

“His parents?”

 

“Yeah. He didn’t say anything else. Have you heard from him?”

 

“No.”

 

“Fuck. Man, you should call him. And don’t give me that bullshit like ‘Oh I don’t wanna impose’ because fuck that.”

 

“If he wanted to talk…”

 

“Maybe he’s too scared to.”

 

Thomas mulled over those words.

 

“Thomas?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Call him, goddamnit.”

 

Julian hung up. Thomas stared at the phone, contemplating. Julian was right. He tapped the screen and dialed his number.

 

“’Allo?” Guy-Man’s voice sounded strained.

 

“Guy-Man?”

 

“Thomas.” He could feel the relief sweep through his voice.

 

“Is everything OK?”

 

A pause.

 

“No.”

 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

***

They laid in Guy-Man’s bed, blankets tucked around them, and watched the last light of the day die against his wall in silence. Thomas didn’t say anything when he arrived a few hours earlier. In fact, he had yet to say anything, instead acting as a strong, silent support, using his body as a security blanket for Guy-Man.

 

He found Guy-Man disheveled when he arrived, his eyes bloodshot, his skin pale. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days even though it was only four in the afternoon. So he undressed Guy-Man and himself and together they showered, the warm water rinsing away his exhaustion. Thomas even washed Guy-Man’s hair, Guy-Man’s eyes closed as Thomas’ fingers massaged his scalp.

 

Afterwards, Thomas dressed Guy-Man in a pair of flannel pajamas, slipped his own boxers back on, and arranged them in bed. Guy-Man laid his head on Thomas’ chest and listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat.

 

And together they lay there letting the world slip by in silence.

 

“How did you know you wanted to be a professor?” Guy-Man’s voice was a gravelly whisper.

 

“I didn’t at first. I had a lot of ideas about what I wanted to do. Be a director. Be a musician. I even made a movie when I was in high school. But I realized that making music and making movies wasn’t for me. I liked to break it down, analyze it, share my findings. I used to drive my friends crazy when we would watch movies at my house. They hated it.

 

“When I got to university I realized that I could make a career out of my love for movies and music. I could teach. I loved writing papers and presenting and doing research. Truly loved it. And so I went to grad school. And now I’m here at Stevenson, a dream come true.” He smiled to himself. He really had made his dream come true. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I feel lost.” Thomas was taken aback by the earnestness of his answer.

 

“Lost?”

 

“It feels like there are too many choices. But at the same time it feels like the choice is easy. I don’t know.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My parents. They want to know why I haven’t declared a major.”

 

“Why haven’t you?”

 

“I don’t want to hurt them.”

 

“Hurt them?”

 

“Do you know Homonem Advertising?”

 

“Sure. It’s the largest advertising agency in France, right?”

 

“Fourth largest in Europe.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“My parents founded it. It used to be just them and a couple friends that had gotten laid off from a firm in London. Now my father is the CEO and my mother is the Chairman of the Board.

 

“At first it was OK. My parents were busy but we still spent time together. Took vacations. My dad would help me with my homework. My mom made my lunch for school. We’d go to Parc Astérix for my birthday. But then the company went public when I was fourteen and everything changed.

 

“It started with an army of nannies. I hated them. I would play the worst pranks on them. I drove them all mad.” Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle, imagining Guy-Man as the _enfant terrible_. “I just wanted my _mère_ and _père_ to myself again.

 

“When they all quit – and they all would quit – it was boarding school. And every one I would find a way to get kicked out. Skip class, bad grades, disrupt class, prank the teachers. They would try to pay them off but then it got so bad they had no choice to move me from school to school. First it was just France but then I had to try Switzerland, then Belgium. I was a terror.” He couldn’t help but crack a mischievous smile.

 

“At first I hoped that they would just let me come home and be with them. After a while it just became the thing to do, the only way they would pay attention.

 

“But I finally graduated. I was surprised when I got accepted to Stevenson. I wanted to come here badly but with my history I didn’t think I had a chance.” He paused, shy.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

 

“No, I like hearing about your life.” He could feel Guy-Man’s lips curving into a smile against his chest.

 

“Anyways, I’m supposed to inherit the company. Become the next CEO when my father chooses to step down.” Guy-Man curled into himself. Thomas stroked at his hip.

 

“What do I know about business? Nothing. I’m not savvy like my father. Never have been. But I know that there’s nothing that I could say that would change his mind. And I don’t…” He stopped, the rush of words coming to an abrupt halt.

 

“I don’t want to disappoint him anymore. But I can’t be that person.”

 

“But it’s not like I have a choice anyways. I either have to declare a major that works for him or they are going to cut me off at the end of the semester. It’s simple as that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Remember that phone call, the one you asked me about last night? That was my advisor. My parents kept calling her since I kept ignoring them. We tried to come up with a solution and give my parents a couple options to at least get them off my back but it didn’t work. And now they came to campus. They gave me a week to decide.”

 

He sank into Thomas, exhausted by his admission. That was everything, he told him everything. He hadn’t even told some of his closest friends the things he had just told Thomas. And Thomas could sense that. He just held him tighter.

 

“Guy-Man, I’m so sorry. I want to help you. Tell me what I can do to help you.”

 

“ Right now, just kiss me.”

 

***

They decided to spend their Sunday at Guy-Man’s apartment. It turned out that Sebastien and his hippy sweetheart had run off to a commune right after the Halloween party and he wasn’t set to return until Monday evening. That allowed Guy-Man and Thomas to roam around the apartment in varying states of undress with no fear of ogling. After a nice unhurried fuck in bed – Guy-Man was stunned when Thomas made him come twice, first with his mouth and then again while slowly fucking him into the mattress – they migrated to the couch where they had a nice, unhurried makeout session while the TV watched them.

 

Eventually they ate and settled into the couch properly, Guy-Man watching Portlandia while Thomas used his laptop to troll through Facebook photos. He scanned through Julian’s tagged photos from Halloween, laughing to himself as he remembered the show and then The Wail. Julian in the costume contest, Julian dancing with the student from his class, Julian stumbling in his heels. But then he came across a photo that made him pause.

 

On the surface, it was nothing: Julian hamming it up for the camera with his blood red pout. But in the background you could see Guy-Man and Thomas holding one another, their eyes locked in adoration. It was the moment right after they had kissed and there was no hiding that they were completely smitten with one another.

 

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

 

 _Sam McArthur likes this photo_.

 


	12. Review Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos, posted comments and sent messages. I appreciate every last bit of support and am so grateful that you've stuck it out. I hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully I'll get the last two chapters up soon!

The worst thing about the inevitable is the wait. The long calm before the inescapable storm. Thomas tried to convince himself that McArthur just thought the photo was funny but after questioning Julian over lunch on Monday – “Dude, he’s never liked one of my photos. Fuck, I didn’t even know we were friends on Facebook.” – he knew that he was out of luck.

 

“Are you OK?” Guy-Man muted the television and turned to look at Thomas.

 

“Why?”

 

“Well you’ve been staring out of the window for five minutes…”

 

“I-It’s a beautiful day.”

 

“Your view is of a tree…”

 

Thomas blushed. He had to change tactics to get out of this. He smiled sheepishly and threw an arm over Guy-Man, quickly crowding him.

 

“It’s nothing.” He whispered, planting a quick kiss to Guy-Man’s lips.

 

“Just tell me the truth.” He whispered in reply. Instead, Thomas kissed him again and stole the remote, unmuting A Touch of Evil and settling back in.

 

Guy-Man was unconvinced. Something had been off with Thomas for the past two days. Ever since he left Guy-Man’s apartment on Sunday, Thomas’ embraces had become just a little bit stiffer, his smiles a little bit forced, his kisses disconnected. He knew he had his presentation on Thursday and that he was bound to be nervous but this seemed like something more, something deeper.

 

_I said too much on Friday._

_Oh God, he’s probably upset about the kiss._

_He must think I’m needy._

_What did I do?_ Merde, _what did I do?_

 

He could feel his face growing hot, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He felt ashamed.

 

Thomas brought his arm from around Guy-Man, settling into the couch with a wiggle, and that was the final straw.

 

“Are you tired of me?” Guy-Man’s voice was small, his frustration barely cloaked.

 

“What?” Thomas was focused on the TV. Guy-Man closed his eyes and tried to summon a little more strength.

 

“Are you sick of me?” Thomas swung around and saw how hurt Guy-Man looked.

 

“No! Absolutely not! I-I…” Thomas stopped himself from saying anything else. He didn’t dare tell Guy-Man that Sam had liked the photo.

 

“I-I-I’m just w-worried about the presentation.”

 

“Stop lying to me. It’s not just the presentation, is it?” He could feel the knife in his heart twisting that much deeper. Thomas had to tell him something to stop this.

 

“I-I can’t tell you.” Guy-Man cut his eyes.

 

“Can’t tell me? Really? You can’t tell me?” His anger was rising. “Just the other day you begged to help me and now I can’t do the same?”

 

Thomas just studied his hands. _I have to deal with this by myself._

 

Guy-Man felt humiliated. He had told Thomas things that he couldn’t tell the people closest to him. _Serves me right for being so trusting._

 

“I’m gonna go.” His body went on autopilot, getting up and grabbing his stuff unconsciously. Thomas knew he should stop him, get him to stay, at least put up some kind of fight.

 

But he sat there.

 

And that was the image Guy-Man carried with him as he rode home on his motorcycle, dejected.

 

***

 

Thomas was hardly surprised when Guy-Man didn’t show up for class the next day. He thought it would be a weight off of his shoulders but instead it felt like a coat made of cement. The class was uneventful – he was wrapping up their week on blockbusters with a screening of Jaws and Jurassic Park, the perfect eighth week pairing – so he spent the remaining hours holed up in his office strumming on his guitar as he tried to figure out a plan to deal with McArthur.

 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Come in.”

 

“Thomas! Thought I’d come by and say hi.” It was Professor McArthur, shit-eating grin firmly in place. He had the look of a man who spent his youth playing lacrosse, his hair a sandy blond and a light tan that seemed artificial since it was November. His summer uniform of Lacoste polos had given way to button downs and bow ties, a young man playing at old man’s game. He stood in the doorway the picture of a man pleased with his position in the world.

 

“Looks like you had a fun Halloween. There were some…great photos on Facebook.”

 

A couple faculty members walked down the hallway. Thomas set the guitar down and stood. He reached around McArthur and shut the door.

 

“You know that student-faculty relationships are a big no-no, right? I know they do things different in France…”

 

“It was nothing…”

 

“Definitely didn’t look like nothing, Professor.”

 

Thomas grit his teeth, the move only making McArthur that much bolder. He was under his skin and he loved it.

 

“Look, Thomas, there’s a simple solution here, give up the class and no one finds out about your little dirty dance.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve been here four years, Bangalter. I’m not gonna let some newb with a thing for nubile young coeds take my class.” McArthur sneered.

 

“But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll knock it out the park next time around. Last time they offered a new class slot was, hmm, six years ago? Maybe you can spend that time finding someone a little more age-appropriate?” He smirked as he turned and left the office.

 

Thomas was truly and thoroughly fucked.

 

***

 

“Love is some bullshit.”

 

Guy-Man had opted out of the screening and instead hung out at Chester’s to work on their figure drawing homework. Chester and his girlfriend had broken up early Saturday morning – “The best part was getting dumped while dressed in sequin hot pants” – so Guy-Man came by with some leftover Guinness and together they drew and got thoroughly drunk.

 

“I’m sorry he’s being such an asshole.”

 

“It’s just that he keeps hiding this thing and I just… I just don’t understand. Everything was going great. I told him about my parents and about this whole thing with my major and he stayed. We fucked. But by the time he left everything was different. I just don’t get it.”

 

“It sounds like cold feet, man. And it happens. It’s all well and good when you have those great emotional fucks but then reality sets in. Some people are just bad with baggage.”

 

“And that’s why I didn’t want to tell him in the first place. But when you’re sitting around flinching every time a fucking phone rings, people notice.” Guy-Man downed the rest of his Guinness and cracked open another.

 

“He’s a prof, you’re his student. How long could it last anyways? I mean, it’s not like he can take you to the faculty Christmas party and show you off.” Chester stood up with a wobble.

 

“Oh ‘allo my fellow professors!” He put on a terrible French accent as he pulled at his invisible blazer. “Let me introduce you to my delectable twink boyfriend, Guy-Manuel.” Guy-Man howled with laughter. “Isn’t he just precious?”

 

“He does not sound like that.”

 

“Both of you sound like that, damnit!” Chester flopped back onto the rug with a thud, cackling the whole time.

 

“And that does not look like a nude study, messieur.” Chester grabbed at Guy-Man’s pad. “But it is cool as fuck. What is this?”

 

“It’s for my friend Pharrell. He’s a design major and he’s going to do a collection next semester. He wanted me to do some illustrations for him.”

 

“These are…wow. These are awesome. Fuck what your parents think, you should major in art.”

 

“And be stuck with Professor Stevens as thesis advisor?”

 

“Fuck that shit with a jackhammer.” Guy-Man snorted. Leave it to Chester for the wildest turns of phrase.

 

“Chester?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How are you doing?” Chester paused.

 

“It hurts. When you spend that long with someone, no matter how it ends, it hurts. You get invested, you know?” He turned back to his sketchbook, his eyes thoughtful.

 

“I just wish it would stop hurting.”

 

Guy-Man nodded and turned back to his sketches.

 

***

 

The florescent lights of the basement café made the dark circles under Thomas’ eyes look even darker.

 

“There is no fucking way he is going to get away with this.” Julian didn’t watch his volume.

 

Not that he needed to, the café was empty save for a bored student barista fiddling with the record player in the corner. They only had a couple minutes until the café closed and they had to be at the screening – Julian was a sucker for Jaws – so they took the moment for Thomas to regroup.

 

“I don’t know what else I can do.”

 

“Sam’s a weasely little shit but I don’t honestly think he would tell them.”

 

Thomas sighed.

 

“He looked pretty goddamn serious to me.”

 

“Fuck.” Julian cradled his head in his hands.

 

“Look, Thomas, I’ll ask around, there’s gotta be some kind of dirt I can get on him…”

 

“Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

 

“No! You have worked too fucking hard on planning this class to just give it up.” Julian dropped to a whisper. “There is nothing in the faculty handbook expressly forbidding student-teacher relationships if both parties are legal.”

 

“But it does if the student is enrolled in your class.”

 

“Well shit it’s just a couple more weeks…”

 

“But until that final grade is in, he’s still my student.” Thomas looked at him hard. _Like I haven’t read that section front and back._

 

“I’ll find something on him. Don’t sweat it.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. He hates me anyways.”

 

“Wait, what? Please explain to me how you go from blissful to hate in four days.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Look, if you don’t want to be with him anymore, just break it off. I don’t think that’s what you actually want to do. And honestly, I think you’d be an idiot to do that if he makes you happy but shit, if you wanna be done, be done. Just be straight with him.”

 

Thomas’ shoulder slumped.

 

_Just be straight with him._

 

***

 

Guy-Man stumbled the two blocks back to his apartment and sank into couch. Chester passed out cold so Guy-Man tucked him in and headed home. Sebastian was on his way out, something about study hall or maybe study balls, you could never be too sure with him.

 

He checked his phone. 10:30. _He should be home._ He unlocked his phone and shot Thomas a text.

 

_Come over?_

 

He waited.

 

_You didn’t come to the screening. You sure?_

Guy-Man rolled his eyes.

 

_Whtevr. Come over._

A minute passes. And then another.

 

_I’ll be there soon._

 

Guy-Man smiled and went to the fridge for another drink.

 

There was a knock on the door fifteen minutes later. Guy-Man opened the door to find an exhausted Thomas.

 

Exhausted didn’t do him justice. He looked like he had been drained completely, bone-deep weariness. All Guy-Man wanted to do was guide him to his bed and let him sleep for the next couple of days. But that’s not why he wanted him to come over.

 

Guy-Man led him inside and shut the door.

 

“I’ve missed you.” Guy-Man’s voice was low and predatory.

 

Thomas said nothing. So Guy-Man took the lead, tugging him along by the hem of his sweater and pushing him onto the couch. He sat on his lap and kissed him slow, his fingers sliding under his sweater. But Thomas seemed uninterested, merely moving his lips with Guy-Man’s. Guy-Man tried to deepen the kiss but again, nothing.

 

He sat back and looked at Thomas. He couldn’t even make eye contact, his eyes darting to Guy-Man’s open sketchbook sitting next to him.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Guy-Man frowned.

 

“Guy-Man, this is brilliant!” It was the first time he sounded enthusiastic about anything in a while.

 

“Thanks.” He muttered.

 

“I mean it. You should think about majoring in Illustration or Design.”

 

“Really? That’s all you’re going to say.” Guy-Man stood, annoyed.

 

“W-what?”

 

“You don’t talk to me. You don’t tell me what’s bothering you. You don’t seem to think that anything is wrong. I’m sorry if I’m a little bit frustrated with you.”

 

“Guy-Man, you’re drunk…”

 

“So fucking what?”

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now?”

 

“No, I want to do this now! Stop treating me like a fucking baby, Thomas! You think I’m a child.” He was on a roll.

 

“I-I don’t think you’re a child…”

 

“You do! I know you do!”

 

“Guy-Man, it’s not what you think.”

 

“And now you’re a goddamn mind reader?”

 

“Just-t, just listen to me.”

 

“I’m listening, Thomas. Please, go right ahead.”

 

Guy-Man stared at him, his eyes blazing. He swayed slightly but righted himself.

 

_Just tell him the truth. You owe it to him._

_No, he already has too much on his plate. Don’t burden him with this. You can solve it._

 

He was between a rock and a hard place with no escape plan.

 

_Do what’s in your heart._

 

But he knew his heart was wrong.

 

“Guy-Man,” his voice was barely a whisper. Guy-Man could guess what his next words would be but he prayed he was wrong.

 

“Maybe we should just…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

 

“Just say it.”

 

“Maybe we should just take a break.”

  

Silence.

 

The kind of silence that weighs down a room.

 

The kind of silence that completely paralyzes you.

 

“If that’s what you want.” Guy-Man turned and walked into his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

 _And that’s how it ends._ Thomas cradled his head in his hands. All he wanted to do was rush into that room, take Guy-Man in his arms and tell him the truth. But he couldn’t. Instead, he stood and left, his heart heavy.

 

***

 

“I’ve never said this to a student but you look like crap.” Miss Chan pushed the glasses up from the tip of her nose.

 

Guy-Man had to crack a smile at that.

 

“Talk to me.”

 

He slouched deeper into his seat.

 

“I know, not exactly your forte but come on, this is more than you having to declare.”

 

 _Damn, she’s good._ He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to grasp at all the loose ends.

 

“I guess I never thought that I’d actually make it.”

 

“What do you mean?” She asked, brow furrowed.

 

“What am I supposed to do after this? After school? I know what my parents expect me to do but I don’t think I can do that for them.

 

“And what the fuck do I even know about the real world? The only job I had was working a stand at a carnival and I got fired from that in a couple of hours.”

 

Alyssa chuckled.

 

“Scowled the kids to death?”

 

“I was a little loose with the prizes…”

 

Alyssa grinned.

 

“Let me let you in on a little secret, no one knows what the hell they’re doing after graduating. Even the ones on a track. The whole idea that you’ll walk off that stage and immediately kick ass is bullshit, pardon my…uh…whatever.

 

“But anyways, what I’m trying to say is that you’re going to find your way. You’re gonna fuck up, maybe say the wrong thing here, do the wrong thing there, and that’s OK. You’re human and you’re young. You have to take all those knocks to learn. And you’ve got even more learning to do.

 

“To be completely honest, your major doesn’t mean anything in the long run. Like, me, I was an chemical engineering major.”

 

“That degree behind you says public policy…”

 

“OK, I was chemical engineering for a little while, that’s besides the point. Public policy, engineering, it doesn’t matter, I’m here, doing this and neither policy nor engineering goes into what I do. And that’s totally fine. I know your parents don’t quite see it that way but that’s reality.” She paused.

 

“You’re going to the live the life you’re supposed to lead. And you are going to thrive. I know you will. Trust yourself. That’s the only thing I can tell you now. Just trust yourself. You are smart and you are more than capable of dealing with whatever the world throws at you. You just have to believe it the way I do.”

 

Her cheeks were blotchy.

 

“Now get out of her. I’ll see you tomorrow with that decision.” She waved him off.

 

Guy-Man smiled to himself as he walked out of her office. If there was one person that just wanted the best for him it was her.

 

He was going to figure it all out and he was going to be OK. He told himself this as he adjusted his coat and walked out onto the quad.

 

***

 

He was manic. He knew he was cutting it ridiculously close – the presentations were at 6pm and it was already 2 – but he had it in the palm of his hand, literally.

 

_Ring_

 

_Ring_

 

_Answer, goddamnit!_

 

_Ring_

 

_Ring_

 

“Fuck this.” He moved the phone from his ear, ready to hang up.

 

“Julian?”

 

“Thank fuck, Christ! I got the dirt and believe me, it is crazy. Basement café ASAP.”


	13. Reading Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to larytadaftjustice and to everyone that has been with this story since the beginning. Finishing this story is thanks in large part to your support and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. We're almost there!

Long hand at the six. Short hand at the five.

 

Thomas sat in his office staring at the clock on the wall.

 

_Just 30 more minutes._

 

He had tried picking up his guitar but he couldn’t think of a single note to play.

 

He thought about looking over his notes again but he knew them front to back.

 

_Besides, what was the point?_

He imagined Sam in Professor Kennedy’s office, his overly white teeth flashing as he leans in and tells her all about the tawdry affair one of her own is having right underneath their noses. He imagined him adjusting the cuffs of his ugly plaid button down as he conveyed his so-called disappointment in having to bring such information to their department head, a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth.

 

He let the images grow and fester in his mind; his waking nightmares taking hold.

 

Long hand just past the six. Short hand at the five.

 

What could even say to defend himself? _Oh, Professor Kennedy, it was just a dance. It was a moment of poor judgment._ He stared at his hands. _Well, truth is that I am falling in love with one of my students but I broke up with him because I was getting blackmailed by my peer._

 

Like Julian would say, he was up shit creek without a paddle.

 

Hell, without a canoe at this point.

 

Long hand at the seven. Short hand at the five.

 

He got up. If he was going to drive himself crazy he might as well sit outside Professor Kennedy’s office and do it there.

 

Every step felt like an eternity yet he was in front of the doors of her office in an instant. The door was cracked open, the sound of a stressed voice floating into the hallway.

 

Might as well just drown right now.

 

He was about to sit in a chair in the hall when the door flew open and a frazzled Professor Kennedy appeared.

 

“Thomas, oh God, you’re early.”

 

“I-is everything OK, Professor?”

 

Professor Kennedy leaned against the doorframe, her body heavy.

 

“Today has been…Christ, I don’t even know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “My apologies but I’m going to have to reschedule our meeting.”

 

“A-anything I can do to help?”

 

She smiled through her exhaustion. Thomas was puzzled.

 

“Thomas, you are so lovely. No, it’s ok.” Her cell phone buzzed and she took a quick glance. “God, this is a nightmare.” She headed towards the main staircase.

 

“Oh, Thomas, you wouldn’t happen to know a Laryta Justin? She’s a teaching fellow at UT Austin?”

 

“No?”

 

Professor Kennedy nodded and hurried down the stairs.

 

_Well, I live to see another day, I suppose._ He walked back to his office, his shoulders still tense.

 

***

 

The forecast called for the first snow of winter on Saturday so Guy-Man gave his bike one final tune up before riding out to the countryside. The Friday afternoon was brisk even through his leather and several layers of shirts but he welcomed the distraction. The former lush green woodlands were near bare, the last few red and yellow leaves clinging to the dark branches. The fields that had held cows or horses were now empty, the sounds of the animals muffled through barn doors. Everything was changing, shutting down, bracing for the cold to come. He sighed, pushing himself further and further away from campus, further away from the problems behind him.

 

But as hard as he tried to escape, his mind kept leading back to the afternoon before.

 

All he wanted to do was nap but his phone would not stop ringing. He was going to let it go to voicemail but the thought of listening to the chorus of Pop Champagne for another second was excruciating. He checked the call ID and frowned as he answered the phone.

 

“Julian?”

 

“Thank fuck, Christ! I got the dirt and believe me, it is crazy. Basement café ASAP.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t have time to explain, just get down to the basement café and I’ll fill you in. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Thomas acting weird? Being an ass? There’s a reason for all of it,” Julian rushed through his words, “I’ll explain everything but I need your help. For him. Please?”

 

Guy-Man stared at his comforter. He wanted answers.

 

He needed answers.

 

He stood up and grabbed his motorcycle jacket as he walked towards the door.

 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

His Bluetooth headset rang and the world came back into focus.

 

“’Allo?”

 

“Guy-Man, hey!” Pharrell’s voice was bright even though he was in the throws of putting together his fall final collection, a fate worst than exams and papers combined.

 

“What’s going on?” He asked as he pulled over.

 

“I’m burnt out. Well, I burned a piece of chiffon and almost set a mannequin on fire so I got thrown out of the workroom till tomorrow. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab dinner and you could show me some of the illustrations? What are you up to?”

 

Guy-Man looked around, dry fields as far as the eye could see.

 

“Nothing really. Just took a ride. Give me an hour?”

 

“I’ll order Thai.”

 

***

 

A little over an hour later, Guy-Man and Pharrell are sitting on the floor of the townhouse’s media room, scarfing down Thai food as they cautiously paged through Guy-Man’s sketchbook, careful to avoid getting grease on the pages.

 

“These…these are even better than my imagination!” Pharrell gushed as he examined an ensemble, a rugby shirt paired with boxy shorts like something straight from Comme des Garçons.

 

“I have to show these to my department head. The lines on this shirt? Guy-Man, I’m telling you, no one in my department can sketch line this. Not even Katz and he used to work at Lanvin. Please, let me take this in?”

 

Guy-Man nodded, flushed through and through. It was one thing to hear words of praise from his friends, but Pharrell’s praise was beyond that. It felt more real.

 

“They are going to kill me. They’re gonna be all over you. Oh my God, are these sequin blazers? How in the hell did you come up with that?”

 

“I’ve been listening to a lot of disco. I don’t know.”

 

“Damn, to live inside your mind, man,” Pharrell shook his head as he turned the page, “So I heard shit is going down in SFMS,” he turned to face Guy-Man, a conspiratorial smile creeping across his face.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Bullshit! You’re dating a professor. You have to know what’s going on. It’s all people were talking about in the workroom before I left. I heard there was some kind of tribunal that’s going to be called. Crazy shit.”

 

“What?”

 

“I should be asking you!”

 

“I swear to God, I have no idea. Plus I haven’t talked to Thomas in days.”

 

“You are so full of shit. You know something.”

 

Guy-Man just turned and stared out of the large bay window overlooking the street bathed in orange streetlight. A few flurries of snow blew past the window.

 

“Twenty bucks it’s a snowstorm.”

 

Guy-Man smiled. _Oh, it’s on._

 

***

Monday morning and campus was at a standstill. The grounds crew had worked double time to pave the paths throughout campus but it was no use. Two days and four feet of snow was nothing for the bulldozers if it weren’t for the simple snowstorm evolving into a nasty nor’easter. The low temperature and slippery roads and sidewalks meant that class was cancelled. However, Thomas was up, bundled in an oversized beanie, three sweaters and every single scarf he owned as he shuffled carefully through the quad to the SFMS building. He heard a muffled scream and looked up to see a faculty member fall prey to a patch of black ice, the thud on the iced-over concrete almost audible. Thomas kept his slow pace. An emergency faculty meeting in these conditions meant that something serious was going on.

 

They gathered in a small screening room with donuts and hot coffee, their damp coats piled high next to the door. Professor Kennedy stood in front of the screen, her hair a dark mess falling onto her cashmere sweater. The room was abuzz. While the storm had been the hot topic on campus, rumors of a shake up at SFMS was still on everyone’s lips. Julian was trapped in New Jersey thanks to a weekend conference at Rutgers. Jersey had it worst than them – power outages all over the state – that meant no answer to a frantic but vague voicemail Julian had left Thomas on Thursday before his presentation. Instead, he was in the screening room, praying that he was not about to be flayed alive in front of a room full of his peers.

 

“Everyone! Let’s get started,” Professor Kennedy hollered over the din, calming the group down.

 

“As everyone knows, there has been a lot of activity going on in our department and I wanted to inform you of the truth of the situation.

 

“A very serious accusation was made against one of our faculty members and after an inquiry we have determined that the accusation was substantiated.”

 

Thomas sank into his seat. _Here we go._

 

“Effective this past Saturday, Professor Sam McArthur has been dismissed from Stevenson University and he has been stripped of his doctorate from New York University.”

 

The room erupted. Thomas could not believe it. McArthur was done. Not just at Stevenson. He was done professionally.

 

“As you know, we here at Stevenson take plagiarism very seriously. On Thursday, a manuscript was delivered to my office proving that Mr. McArthur plagiarized his doctorate thesis from a classmate, now a teaching fellow at UT Austin. After getting in touch with NYU and the fellow in Austin, we were able to determine that the work attributed to him was in fact solely hers.”

 

Thomas was stunned. He knew McArthur was a snake but a thief?

 

“I’m so sorry to have you trek through the awful weather but I thought that it was imperative that we come together and set the record straight.”

 

Professor Kennedy continued but Thomas was miles away.

 

He was off the hook.

 

The only question now was how.

 

***

 

“You know, I’ve never had a Skype appointment. I’m into this. No having to wait on late arrivals. Just call em on the Skype,” Alyssa sat in what Guy-Man assumed was her kitchen.

 

“They have to answer, just like a phone,” he replied. He sat at the dining room table wrapped in an old quilt, a notepad and course catalog next to the keyboard.

 

“Be a damn buzzkill, see if I care,” she took a long sip from a hot pink mug and pushed her glasses up. “Tell me your heat is on. I don’t need you dying of hypothermia before the end of the semester. Gotta survive the next two days minimum. Even though I know you’re not a fan of that idea.”

 

Guy-Man gave her a dead stare, her responding laugh delayed by the network lag.

 

“And we’re not in your office because?”

 

“Because I live way off campus and the Weather Service has stated that it is too dangerous to travel such long distances at this time.”

 

“Campus is open. Classes are in session. They salted the roads.”

 

“And yet I could not be bothered with having to deal with it. Funny how that is.”

 

Guy-Man rolled his eyes.

 

“Well, it’s cold and basically a half week. Plus I’d rather enjoy my hot chocolate from the comfort of my home.” She took another long sip, a dot of whipped cream stuck to her nose. She examined her nose on the screen and wiped it away. “Sorry.”

 

“So, let’s get down to business. Mother Nature bought you the weekend.”

 

“And now they’re stuck in the city until next week.”

 

“So that means they’re coming back on?” Alyssa asked.

 

“Next Friday.”

 

“Well at least your Thanksgiving won’t be ruined.”

 

“I’m French.”

 

“Anyways, you’ve already had a couple extra days. What are you thinking?”

 

Guy-Man sighed. He felt like he had gotten nowhere over the weekend. He grabbed the notepad and scanned over his notes.

 

“I looked at marketing,” his finger ran along the notepad, “It looked OK.”

 

“You’d hate it,” she stated frankly.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s a lot of statistics and we both know how that went last year.”

 

_Scratch that._

 

“Um, there’s economics?”

 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

 

“Did you look up Econ in the course catalog?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Go ahead. Take a look at the requirements.”

 

He leafed through the catalog and landed on Economics. Requirements: math. Lots of math. He groaned.

 

“Look, you’re not going to find what you want by taking the conventional route.”

 

Guy-Man’s scowl deepened.

 

“You really think you’d be happy trying to cram a year’s worth of advanced stats and probability while sitting through the driest lectures known to mankind? Believe me, I’ve sat in on one. Death by boredom is possible.”

 

She made a valid point. Guy-Man sat in frustrated silence.

 

“I wasn’t going to mention this but I got an email from Professor Katz in the Art department. He said one of his students happened to enlist the help of one of the finest student illustrators he’s ever seen. Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

 

Guy-Man’s blush was so deep it was easy to pick up through the patchy connection. Pharrell has scanned a couple of his sketches and sent them to his professor. Looks like word had gotten around.

 

“He sent me a scan. Guy-Man, they are brilliant. Katz wants you to major in Illustration.”

 

_Illustration?_ He let the idea roll around his mind.

 

“My parents would never go for it.”

 

“Well it’s an option. Consider it. You gotta think outside the box.”

 

He ripped the sheet from his notepad and crumpled it up.

 

“Nice,” Alyssa smiled warmly, her glasses slipping down her nose. “Now for the love of God, turn on your heat. Your parents would kill me if they knew you froze to death.”

 

***

 

“How did you do it?” Thomas crowded Julian’s doorway.

 

“You know, a real friend would say something like ‘Oh my God, Julian, you’re alive after the torture of being trapped in the hellhole that is the Newark airport for days on end!’”

 

“You left the airport and went to New York on Monday.”

 

Julian smirked, the wide neck of his Misfits shirt slipping down his shoulder.

 

“I was still trapped in that airport for nearly a day.” He moved back into his apartment, Thomas following behind. “I needed time to recover.”

 

“Four days in the city?”

 

“Jersey was traumatizing,” he yawned as he flopped onto his futon. Julian’s spacious loft was a mess. Although the walls were sparsely decorated – mostly because they were more window than plaster and paint – books lined the baseboards. In one corner he had made a small studio complete with several keyboards, synthesizers and a small drum kit. Various instruments were scattered across the room – a couple guitars by his studio, a bass on his bed, a glockenspiel on the kitchen counter and a trumpet peeking out of his overfilled laundry hamper.  It was the perfect spot for a musician like Julian: away from campus in the old town over, his building, a once-thriving manufacturing warehouse turned scatter camp turned artist colony. His only other neighbors were fellow artists so a late night jam session was never an issue but most of the time it was quiet, the scent of weed, incense and MSG floating from floor to floor. Thomas sat in one of the mismatched chairs around the stolen plastic patio table Julian called his dining room masterpiece.

 

“But you couldn’t give a shit about Jersey.” Julian smiled. “You have to admit, you’re impressed.”

 

“They didn’t tell us anything until Monday.”

 

“Oh, I cannot begin to imagine being you last weekend…”

 

Thomas cocked his head in agreement.

 

“So how did you do it?”

 

“First, tell me something.”

 

“What?”

 

“How’s the kid?”

 

“Why?”

 

Julian sighed, sinking deeper into the futon.

 

“What?”

 

“Of course you haven’t talked to him,” Julian muttered.

 

“You got him involved?” Thomas sat up.

 

“I needed help. You wouldn’t answer your phone. He was my last option. And believe me, he did a beautiful job. Exceeded all expectations if you ask me.”

 

“Where did you even find the manuscript?”

 

“Facebook. Overheard at Tisch. Gotta love graduate program gossip blogs. He almost got a girl expelled thanks to Mommy and Daddy’s influence. Stole her thesis, that piece of shit. She was more than happy to send me a very detailed comparison of the two.”

 

“But why did you go to Guy-Man?”

 

“Because I couldn’t decide on what to do. Look, I don’t know exactly what he did. Personally, I didn’t think that Sam would get kicked out. Whatever the kid did, he went the whole nine yards.”

 

Thomas sat back and considered Julian’s words.

 

“But look, I’ve got a crazy idea.”

 

“What?”

 

“Maybe…Go over to his place and ask him your goddamn self. He knows everything now. I had to tell him. And he made a choice.”

 

Thomas slouched, rubbing his face with his hands. He had to admit that Julian was right.

 

“One downside of Sam being gone?”

 

“There’s a downside?” Julian replied as he leaned back languidly.

 

“Double grading.”

 

Julian smiled.

 

“Hey, you win some, you lose some.”

 

***

 

Thomas passed on Julian’s offer of a ride back to campus, opting for the bus instead.  As he rode, he imagined Julian telling Guy-Man what had happened. He tried to picture his face as Julian explained how Sam had blackmailed him. Would he drum his fingers along his thigh? Bite at his lip? Maybe he’d be completely still, furious within.

 

_I should have told him._

 

He looked out the window and realized that he had missed his stop, the bus now passing through main campus. He looked up at the route. Isham West, next stop. Which meant...

 

_It’s time._

 

He swallowed his pride and pulled the stop chord.

 

***

 

The sun was setting as he walked down the salt-coated sidewalk. He adjusted his scarf and closed his jacket tighter. He tried going over the words in his head but every thought died on the tip of his tongue when he attempted whispering them under his breath. He had never been quick on his feet under pressure. So as he took the last steps before reaching Guy-Man’s front door all he could do was breathe and hope that he’d find the words in the moment.

 

The light was on in the living room.

 

Three knocks and a breath caught in his throat.

 

But when the door opened he was greeted to a heavy beard and dark sunglasses.

 

“What are you doing here?” Sebastien asked, his voice like dry gravel.

 

“I-is Guy-Man here?” Thomas asked in reply. Sebastien pulled off the sunglasses and examined Thomas closely.

 

“It’s about time I suppose.” He tossed the sunglasses on the couch. “He’s not in.”

 

“Look, I know…”

 

“No, I don’t think you do,” Sebastien’s tone turned stony. He ushered Thomas inside and shut the door.

 

“He didn’t tell me everything but you hurt him. Really hurt him.”

 

Thomas held Sebastien’s critical gaze.

 

“I don’t know if he ever told you this but I’ve been his friend for years. His last boarding school in France? That’s where we met. And as long as I’ve known him, I had never seen him like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“At ease. Completely at ease. Do you know how rare that is for him?” Sebastien broke eye contact, history running behind his eyes.

 

“Look,” Sebastien’s voice was quiet as he stepped closer to Thomas, “If you’re not serious, let him go. Because he can’t go through this again. Not like this.”

 

He shifted past Thomas and opened the door.

 

Even as he sat on the bus, his shoulders heavy and his heart a little broken, he felt Sebastien’s words reverberate in him, recognizing that what Sebastien saw in Guy-Man he felt too. The ease. The comfort. And slowly the break began to mend.

 

He was going to fix this no matter what.


	14. Author's Note - Summary of chapters 14 & 15 and the previously planned sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was asked on tumblr about the end of the fic so I wrote a summary of what was supposed to happen. It's not much but it does help to tie up loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to everyone that made this fic possible even years after it was supposed to be finished. Looking back, I'm still quite proud of the work and apologize for not giving it the ending it truly deserved.

This is a summary of what was supposed to happen in the final two chapters of Cine101:

Chapter 14 - Finals

For Guy-Man, the end of the semester usually meant a wild dash to get all of his assignments in order before grades were due. Essays, overdue homework, studying for finals, tenth week was the quick descent into anxiety and sleeplessness.

But on this quiet Sunday night he recognized how this semester was different. He was all but finished with his work for his short novel class: merely a couple edits away from turning in his final assignment. He was on top of his electrical engineering assignments: readings complete, problem sets turned in, his attendance very good. He had gone above and beyond in figure drawing in the last week, his class sketchbook rich with anatomy studies, nudes, figures and portraits, an A+ just waiting to be posted on Blackboard. 

***

The chapter opens with Guy-Man organizing himself for finals. It then jumps to a flashback of Guy-Man going to Professor Kennedy’s office and epically blowing the whistle on Sam. I’ll be honest, a big part of the problem was I could never get the whistleblowing down right. 

Thomas finds out that he gets the class and Guy-Man comes to an agreement with his parents: he’ll study illustration and graphic design and work entry level in creative at the ad agency after he graduates. His mom convinces his dad that there’s a number of ways for him to be successful and that he shouldn’t be bound to the company; wasn’t he supposed to be his own person like they were able to?

Thomas and Guy-Man finally reunite, Guy-Man forgives Thomas and tells him that he only wish he had told him what was going on so he could help him, the same way he offered to help him. They decide that they want to continue their relationship but they have to be honest with one another.

Epilogue - Course Evaluations

The chapter opens a year and a half later as Guy-Man assists Pharrell with his thesis fashion show. Guy-Man helped illustrate every design and watches on as the show is a smashing success. He returns to his apartment after a raucous celebration at The Wail, where we discover the soon-to-be post grad fates of Sebastien, Pedro, Chester and Pharrell, to Thomas, champagne and a very intimate celebration of their own. Guy-Man is melancholic - with graduation just days away and his return to Paris inevitable, he worries about the fate of their relationship. Thomas tells him not to worry.

Julian, Thomas and new junior professor Justin watch the graduation procession. Thomas gets many compliments on his wildly popular Music in Film course along with questions on his plan for next year but he keeps mum on his plans. Alyssa sees off Guy-Man and congratulates him on graduating with honors in Illustration with a minor in Electrical Engineering - a minor even she didn’t see coming. Guy-Man introduces Thomas to his parents and is surprised that they’ve already met.

Thomas and Guy-Man finish packing up Guy-Man’s apartment when Thomas gives him the good news - he’s going to do a year teaching his music course in Paris.

Planned Sequel

I had started to plan a sequel set over the course of the year in Paris which saw Thomas dealing with some ghosts of his past, Guy-Man leaving the firm and almost becoming a partner in Pharrell’s budding fashion line, Thomas and Guy-Man making music together - Guy-Man on synths since he’s a surprising tech wiz and Thomas on traditional instruments - as a way to blow off steam and ending with Thomas and Guy-Man forming Daft Punk, a crazy multi-discipline art project that fulfills them both even though it’s not their main gig.


End file.
